A Greater Foe
by Theninjew
Summary: Sovereign has been defeated at the hands of two human exemplars, Commanders John and Lillian Shepard, with the aid of their loyal and diverse crew. But what happens when a greater foe emerges, rendering one of the heroes KIA? The trials of the Shepard siblings are far from over. This story will take you through a tweaked version of Mass Effect 2, with a prequel and sequel planned.
1. Into the Fire

Author's note: This is my second attempt at a novelization fanfic. I tried writing one (with the same principles and name as this one) for the first game, but after about 12 pages or so it turned out to be crap. This one's going much better so far. If you like this, be sure to follow and favorite and stuff; I'll try to post new chapters every two weeks (with school and everything, I don't have much time to write). Also, feel free to send me a message with any suggestions you may have about how this story should play out. I'm open to criticism, but keep in mind I'm a junior. From a public school. In Los Angeles. In Reseda (you get the idea, I didn't go to BAaT). Also, I don't proofread (nor will I) these author's notes, so the story itself is much better.

* * *

_Dreams are like stars … you may never touch them, but if you follow them they'll lead you to your destiny._ – Anonymous

* * *

A man sat in a dark room aboard an uncharted space station, gazing out of a glass wall at a giant star, its brilliant red and blue hues reflecting off the mirror-like floor. In front of him was a wide array of holograms, each divulging mission reports or statistical charts, but he did not seem to be paying them any mind. All of his features were concealed save his eyes, which glowed bright cyan, likely from cybernetic modification. Despite the darkness, one could observe that he was dressed in business attire, the dim light providing contrast between his suit's jet black jacket and stark white shirt. As he looked out, pondering, he would periodically take a long draw from a loosely held cigarette, exhale the smoke, and tap off the remaining ash into a small tray built into the armrest of his chair. A tall, slender woman with straight black hair descending past her shoulders stood a few feet in front of him, beyond the holograms. When she began to speak, his eyes turned toward her, fixing her with a static, steadfast stare.

"The Shepards did everything right." She spoke placidly, her accent tinged with possible British ancestry. "More than we could have hoped for. Saving the Citadel - but leaving the Council to die. Humanity's place in the galaxy is stronger than ever," She turned her head to look at him, "… and still it's not enough."

The man gave a knowing nod. "Humanity may control the Council, but the Shepards remain our best hope." His voice was calm, devoid of attachment.

The woman swung around and started towards the man, revealing rich violet eyes beneath delicate eyebrows, cheeks neither plump nor gaunt, and a slender jaw. Her black and white skin tight outfit magnificently accentuated her curves, of which she had no short supply. She passed through one of the holographic panels separating her from the man, causing it to shimmer with distortion. "But one of them is in the hospital, and the Council is sending the other to fight geth. Geth! We both know they're not the real threat - the Reapers are still out there."

An assistant walked up behind the man and handed him a data pad. After quickly glancing at it, he held it out for the woman, and spoke. "Then it's up to us to stop them."

She took the data pad, intending to review it in detail later. "The council will never trust Cerberus. They'll never accept our help, even after everything humanity has accomplished. But the Shepards, they'll follow them. They're heroes, bloody icons. But they're just two people. If we lose them, humanity might well follow."

The man leaned in slightly, and, after a long drag from his cigarette, commanded, "Then see to it that we don't lose them."

* * *

The _Normandy_, a small Alliance cruiser barely over ninety meters in length, orbited the icy planet Alchera, the planet's eastern hemisphere illuminated by the yellow dwarf Amada. This is the second time they've scoured this star system, and so far there was no sign of anything geth. They were about ready to head out, only scanning the planet again for the sake of fastidiousness.

A woman dressed in an Alliance blue jumpsuit sat alone in the captain's quarters, gaze fixed on the computer screen in front of her, the bright orange glow reflecting off her emerald green eyes. A small nose, thin jaw, and full cheeks made for lithe features, fitting well with the rest of her body, which was built like a dancer's; thin, flexible, and nothing too big or too small. Her dazzling face was marred only by a thin, inch-long scratch bisecting her left eyebrow towards its tip. If she were standing, she'd be just under six feet tall; shorter than most soldiers, but, as many who worked with her discovered, size isn't everything. Not by a longshot. The insignias on her shoulders identified her as Lieutenant Commander. The name emblazoned on the dress blues hanging by her bed read Shepard, Lillian.

Her fingers danced along the holographic keyboard as she flipped through various interfaces, stopping once she reached her email. Amazing how much junk mail made its way past her account's defenses. She sometimes wished that the Council would let her summarily execute the people who send this crap, but there are some things even a Spectre isn't permitted to do.

Spectres (an acronym for _Spec_ial _T_actics and _Re_connaissance) are elite operatives handpicked by the Citadel Council to essentially take out their dirty laundry. When sent on a mission, it is entirely up to the Spectre's discretion how to accomplish the given objective, even if their methods break intergalactic law. This nearly boundless freedom is quite controversial; some believe that no one should be held above the law, while others feel that the galaxy needs people who can get the job done without being held back by oceans of red tape. Lillian Shepard and her brother were accepted into their ranks as the first human Spectres after they exposed the rogue turian Spectre Saren Arterius as a traitor to the Council. However, they were considered for the positions even before that, in lieu of their impressive service records and countless special commendations.

As she sorted through her mail, one message in particular caught her attention; it was from her brother, John. She opened the attached file, and his upper chest and head popped up on screen amid the backdrop of a hospital's inpatient wing. His hair, buzzed to about 1 millimeter long, melded seamlessly with his ever-present two day stubble. All of his features were large and strong, from his jaw to his nose. His blue eyes gleamed beneath full brows, complimenting the smile on his face. A scar on the left side of his head stretched from two inches above his hairline straight down to the middle of his forehead, making his dome look like the silhouette of a planet. He was wearing a black T-shirt with an obtrusive N7 printed on it. He stood straight, arms casually at his side, so someone else must have recorded him. It was most likely their turian friend and comrade-in-arms Garrus Vakarian, as he was currently taking his shore leave on the Citadel, where John was medically incarcerated.

Lillian was glad to see her brother standing, as his right leg had to be replaced after a large piece of debris fell on it during their mission to stop Saren. Out of the entire squad, that was the only, and quite humiliating, casualty. It would appear that the doctors successfully integrated the artificial limb with his nervous system. _Thank God for modern medicine,_ she thought.

"Hey sis, just wanted to send you a status update," he spoke aloofly. "The doctors say I'll be good to go in a couple of days. It's about goddamn time, too; I've been going stir crazy in here. I mean, there are only so many times you can watch _Blasto_ before it loses its charm, not to mention the food. All they have here are these weird salarian slugs and ramen noodles. I don't think I have any hydration left." His smile widened.

"Hey John, should I show her the leg?" Garrus' voice could be heard directly behind the camera. Lillian remembered learning something in high school biology about his species having two larynxes, which were responsible for their double toned voice.

John nodded, and the camera angled down to reveal the limb in all its glory. What wasn't covered by one his short's sleeves looked one hundred percent organic. He wiggled the toes of his bare foot to prove he had full control over them. Some of Garrus's sandaled right foot managed to make its way into the shot, its gray, talon-like phalanges opposed by the bright white floor. The camera panned back to John's face. "Pretty cool, right? They cloned my skin to make the cover. It wasn't technically necessary, but I really don't want a leg that looks like it came off a geth. Well, anyway, I guess I should tell you the news…" he paused, as if searching for the right words, fiddling his thumbs. When he spoke again, his tone had changed, becoming more serious. "Uh, yesterday, Anderson told me that I'm gonna be captaining another ship. He said it's really similar to the _Normandy_; it's a frigate with the same prototype stealth system and drive core. So, I guess the ship is all yours, no more splitting the command with your little brother." He sighed, trying to make it sound relieved to mask his disappointment. "It's not an Alliance ship though, so I can name it pretty much anything I want." His smile returned. With a dramatic wave of hand, "I'm thinking I'll call it _The Shepherd's Ghost_." At this, Garrus spun the camera around so his face occupied the entire screen.

Like all turians, Garrus was covered by a semi-metallic carapace that most species on his homeworld, developed to ward off harmful rays from the sun not blocked by the planet's weak magnetic field. This made his skin (scales, whatever) appear a pretty light shade of gray. His deep blue eyes twinkled amidst their large, black sockets. Two large, flanged mandibles took the place of cheeks. Right now, they were slightly parted in amusement, so several of his sharp pointed teeth could be seen. As he shook his head in condescendence Lillian could see the long, bony fringe that ran along his scalp and protruded almost half a foot from the back of his head, as well as the thick plates that covered the back of his neck. Lillian found it odd to see him without the visor he usually wore over his left eye. It had become canon.

When the camera shifted back to John, it felt like an eternity had passed, when it had actually been only a few seconds. "Clearly Garrus doesn't approve, but I think it's a clever play on words." Lillian was confused for a second while she remembered what he was talking about. "Well, sucks for him, cuz that's where he's spending his next tour. Now Garrus, before you get mad, just let me say two things: it has a bar, and it's _stocked_." If the turian was going to protest, the promise of booze stopped him dead in his tracks.

Lillian smiled. Since John and Garrus met, the two had been practically inseparable. Though Garrus's combat style more mirrored her own, he had taken a liking to John because of their similar philosophies; get the job done and damn the consequences, and do it as drunk as humanly (or turianly?) possible. Though they never went into battle liquored up, their down time on the Citadel was sometimes spent in constant inebriation. Lillian seldom indulged, and she preferred to be more deliberate, careful, and overall more compassionate in her operations. That's what separated her from John, and their conflicting views often created conflicting conflicts. Their biggest dispute to date had to be after their mission on the planet Virmire.

Saren (the bastard) was breeding an army of krogan, the war-loving people of Tuchanka, in a secret facility to help him take the Citadel. In so doing, his scientists discovered a cure for the genophage virus, a sterility plague created by the salarians and administered by the turians to end the krogan rebellions. It makes only a few out of every thousand pregnancies carry to term. Now, the krogan are a dying breed, and their lust for battle isn't helping them stay alive long enough to reproduce. One of their squadmates, a krogan named Urdnot Wrex, was less than happy to hear that they were planning to destroy the facility. He and John had a Mexican standoff, each training their gun on the other, waiting for one to back off or make a wrong move. John would have pulled the trigger, would have killed his friend (albeit a crazy friend) for the sake of the mission if Lillian hadn't talked Wrex down. Garrus later told her that he also would've been prepared to kill Wrex if he were in John's shoes. Despite their differences in ideologies; however, Lillian knew that John and Garrus would never let an innocent come to harm unless it was absolutely necessary; that's what set them apart from the man they were trying to stop, so they only squabbled _some_ of the time.

While she was heartfallen to hear he was leaving, Garrus would be much better off, and happier, with her brother. Plus, that meant that she wouldn't need to stock dextro-DNA food anymore. _Oh wait… we still have Tali_. Shepard nearly forgot about her quarian friend who so loved to hide herself down in the engine room. Never mind.

The video was coming to a close. "So, when you're done with whatever the hell it is the Council has you doing, be sure to pay me a visit, preferably once I've busted out of here." The message closed as Garrus cut the feed.

Lillian was about to move to her bed, intent on getting a good night's rest, when a shipwide red-alert sounded, coupled by flashing red lights. Adrenal glands pumping, Shepard ran to her locker just across from her room, by the med bay. She hastily began putting on her hardsuit, and she sincerely hoped that this was just a prank being pulled by her pilot. All doubts of the severity of the situation vanished as an explosion rocked the ship, throwing her to the side as she secured her greaves. Whoever was attacking was packing enough firepower to completely bypass their kinetic barriers. This did not bode well for the crew of the _Normandy_.

* * *

Flight Lieutenant Jeff "Joker" Moreau was in heaven whenever he was at the helm of the _Normandy_. To him, he was more than just its pilot; _Normandy_ was his baby, his life. If he could mate with it, anyone'd be damned to think he wouldn't. Right now, he was lying back in his chair, occasionally sitting up to make a minor course adjustment. When the ship's in orbit, it doesn't demand much attention. Besides, his two copilots were more than adept to make sure the ship didn't crash land on Alchera. A soft ping from one of his monitors prompted him to lean forward, and he fixed his forest green eyes on Engineer Adams's report, stroking the strands of his rough beard, which he would _never_ get rid of. Engines were nominal, kinetic barriers at one hundred percent, and the mess sergeant was making brisket for dinner; life was good.

"Four days of searching up and down this sector, and we haven't found any sign of geth activity." Joker turned his head towards the ship's Executive Officer, Navigator Charles Pressly, who was making his way to the bridge. A wreath of white hair encircled his head, a testament to his age. He tapped the ensign on Joker's right on his shoulder, relieving him of his shift. He gratefully started for the stairs on the other end of Combat Information Center, better known as the "sea I see", no doubt to catch some food and shuteye.

"Three ships went missing here in the past month. Something happened to them," the pilot said as Pressly sat down.

Pressly turned toward Joker with brows furrowed. "My money's on slavers," he replied, a look of disgust spreading across his face. "The Terminus Systems are crawling with them."

The ensign on Joker's left tapped the holographic display in front her several times as she, with barely contained concern, voiced, "Picking up something on the long range scanner. Unidentified vessel. Looks like a cruiser."

Joker bolted upright in his chair and looked at a panel detailing the ship. "Doesn't match any known signatures," he declared, curiosity piqued. They were safe; even if the ship had hostile intentions, they'd never find the _Normandy_. Their stealth system trapped the ship's heat emissions, blocking enemy ladars (_La_ser _D_etection _a_nd _R_anging) from picking up their presence.

The ensign then said something that made Joker's blood chill, "Cruiser changing trajectory; now on intercept course."

Pressly chimed in, "Can't be. Stealth systems are engaged, there's no way a geth ship could-"

"It's not the geth," Joker interrupted. "Brace for evasive maneuvers!" he yelled, slamming his finger on his console, putting the ship into red alert. He got his first good look at the unknown vessel when the _Normandy_'s scanners assembled its image on a monitor to Joker's left; it was almost one kilometer long, and had what looked like giant rocks spanning its length. It was charging its main gun; a bright yellow orb was increasing in size and intensity in an otherwise dark chasm at the ship's helm. Without even aligning them with its bow, the cruiser fired, its attack coming at an angle thought not possible from a ship its size. A devastating beam of energy tore right through their shields, ripping the outer hull above their heads to shreds. Pressly's console exploded in front of him, and he crumpled to the floor, dead.

"Pressly!" shouted the ensign as she moved to get up. Before she could, however, a similar explosion propelled her forward, and her head struck the ground, killing her.

Joker began to mumble damage reports, but only he was near enough to hear them, "Kinetic barriers down, weapons offline, multiple hull breaches." As the blaze behind him spread, he yelled, "Somebody get that fire out!"

Another blast echoed through the ship, rendering one the _Normandy_'s thrusters nonfunctional and no doubt killing more of the crew. A plasma barrier materialized behind Joker; an automated defense designed to prevent decompression of the cockpit. It was a good thing too, for the next shot tore the roof off most of the CIC. He turned back to see no one in what was left to the room, which either meant that they reached the safety of the life shuttles or they got spaced. On the plus side, the fire was out.

* * *

Shepard had just finished making preparations for the ship's emergency beacon, which would broadcast a distress signal to the Alliance from the planet below. She was in a short hallway filled with cryo pods, and fire was threatening to trap her in a corner. Above the explosions and the screaming, she heard the familiar voice of her squadmate Staff Lieutenant Kaidan Alenko calling to her. "Commander!"

She fixed her helmet to the rest of her suit and checked the pressure seals before she turned to him. He was also wearing his suit, the glow of his technician helmet's eyes obscuring his own, which were no doubt filled with apprehension. Her own helmet's visor was currently polarized to shield her eyes from the bright explosions. "Distress beacon is ready for launch," she relayed coolly.

"Will the Alliance get here in time?" he voiced with concern.

A blast rocked the ship, forcing them to steady themselves. She yanked a fire containment unit off the wall and thrust it into Kaidan's hands. "I'm not doing this just so they can find our frozen corpses," she said as Kaidan spewed white clouds from the extinguisher. "Get everyone onto the escape shuttles."

As she worked in tandem with him to put out some of the fires blocking their path, he conveyed, "Joker's still in the cockpit; he won't abandon ship." He turned to face her, and with foolhardy bravado declared, "I'm not leaving either."

Lillian wasn't about to let him or her pilot go down with the ship. "Get to the damn shuttles!" she ordered. "I'll haul Joker's crippled ass out of here."

"Commander…," he tried to protest.

"Get the hell out of here!"

He nodded, despite his opposition, and ran to the shuttle bay to start loading people onto the shuttles. She knew that Kaidan would carry out her order; his subordinate and personal love for her wouldn't let him disobey. She felt the same way about him, but she'd never say it; it would go to his head. The first time things between them got… intimate, was before their sortie on Ilos. Since then, it's been their little secret (Joker knew about it of course, but he was sworn to not tell on pain of death). She didn't want something like that broadcast to the whole ship; she'd never hear the end of it. Lillian knew her brother had feelings like that towards Gunnery Chief Ashley Williams. That is to say he _did_, before…

Shepard's thoughts were interrupted as another shockwave sent a tremor through the ship, momentarily throwing her off balance. With a start she realized that her current objective was to save her helmsman, a proverbial dude in distress. She began running to the bridge, hand out to protect her from the fire.

It was a common misconception that the shields built into a suit of armor protected against all forms of damage. As the name "kinetic barrier" suggests, it repels objects traveling above a certain speed, like bullets, particle beams, even punches (if they're swift enough). The suit itself is hardened to protect against extremes of pressure, extremes of temperature, dangerous chemicals, radiation, and explosions. Shields don't block these aforementioned dangers, but they _can_ deflect, say, the _shrapnel_ from an explosion, or the tiny globules of burning liquid spewed by a flamethrower. Rain presents a problem for the shields; however, as they can get overtaxed trying to repel all the little drops. Anyway, fire was hot enough to burn Shepard through the suit, thus her hand was thrust outward to feel for the thermal menace.

She made it past the mess hall and up the stairs in less than ten seconds, but when she opened the door to the CIC, what little atmosphere remained was sucked into space. She would've been as well, if not for her grav boots, which instantly activated upon crossing the threshold into the vacuum. The CIC's artificial gravity had failed, making the walk to the bridge slow and deliberate as she navigated the zero-G environment. Chairs and random effects were floating around, and would list away lazily if Shepard so much as brushed them. Beyond the plasma barrier protecting the cockpit some twenty five feet away, she could see Joker's arms pop in and out of view as he scrolled through various screens on his console. When she passed through the barrier, she instantly felt gravity return. Joker was wearing an oxygen mask, as the air was no longer breathable, but it would not save him from the vacuum of space if the barrier fell. Stepping over the copilots' bodies, she ran behind Joker's seat. "Come on Joker, we've got to get out of here!"

"No!" he shouted, still manipulating the various panels in front of him. "I won't abandon the Normandy! I can still save her!"

"The Normandy's dead – just like us if we don't get the hell out of here!"

"No!" He was unyielding. "We just have to -" a look of absolute horror engulfed his face when he saw the enemy ship's display. "Oh no. They're coming around for another attack!" As if to add drama, another ray ripped through the floor a few feet behind them, further compromising the deck below. That barrier wouldn't be up for much longer. Without waiting for compliance, Shepard grabbed Joker roughly and carried him to the pilot's escape pod. "Ah! Watch the arm!" he yelled, having finally given in.

Once she made sure the pilot was secure, she began to enter the pod, which, though smaller than the rest, had room enough for four. But before she could get in, another shot from the cruiser disabled gravity, causing her to be knocked away. She heard Joker scream her name frantically, as he struggled to get out in an attempt to rescue her. In a final act of gallantry, she slammed the eject button by the entrance before he could leave. Just as she did so the field fell, the wind taking her further into space. One final detonation sent the Commander spinning into the frame of the wreck that was once her ship, sending crippling pain through her body as her neck and extremities struck the hard metal. When Shepard's vision cleared, she saw the _Normandy_, what was left of it, sailing toward the planet below. As she gazed, horrorstruck, angry, she felt an unbearable coldness creep along her body. Her fears were confirmed when a red warning flashed across her HUD; the pressure seals were compromised, and her oxygen supply was now feeding the ever hungry vacuum. Dying from asphyxiation, she futilely grabbed her throat, gasping for air, as gray fog condensed on her visor. As she fell to the planet below, her final thoughts were of her friends, her brother, and Kaidan Alenko.

* * *

So, as you guys can see, my story will deviate from the game from time to time. For instance, in case you didn't know, the ship wasn't orbiting Alchera when the game starts, it had just popped out of FTL. I also invented words that I know don't exist but that should exist, like horrorstruck and shockwave. Anyway, I'll shut up now.


	2. Project Lazarus

Author's note: I lied, looks like I've posted this new chapter within a week. Hope you enjoy it. Mr. Shepard isn't mentioned at all in this chapter, but don't worry, he'll be introduced when Lillian [Redacted]. You think I'd spoil it?

* * *

_And death and hell were cast into the lake of fire. This is the second death._ – Revelation 20:14

The only sound Lillian Shepard could hear was the beating of her heart, magnified tenfold. She thought there were voices too, but she couldn't make sense of anything she heard. All she saw was black; her eyes weren't open. Her jaw felt stiff, like it spent a few days being pressed against a stone slab, and it hurt to move. As for the rest of her body; it felt numb, as if she were floating on a cloud. When she finally opened her eyes, a blinding white light greeted them, forcing them to adjust. _Am I dead?_ Shepard thought disdainfully, the painful memories of her ship being destroyed returning. No, she could make out words now; they were female, and, while gracious in their resonance, were certainly not spoken by God.

"There, on the monitor," they said. "Something's wrong."

A gruff male voice, coming from her right, responded. "She's responding to outside stimuli. Showing an awareness of her surroundings."

Lillian thought she could make out the outline of a machine hovering above her, but couldn't discern its purpose. She was more curious as to where she was, or who these people were.

"Oh my God, Miranda. I think she's waking up!" Now Shepard could make out the quiet beeping of a heart monitor to her right, and it was pinging faster and more urgently with each passing second.

"Damn it Wilson, she's not ready yet! Give her the sedative."

Feeling was slowly returning from her limbs, bringing with it a sharp, piercing pain. She tried moving her arm, but the unidentified woman held it firmly, yet gently, in place. The woman's eyes made contact with hers, and the first thing Shepard noted was their unique color.

"Shepard, don't try to move." She coaxed her in a tone similar to one used to lull a baby to sleep, but the hint of concern in her voice ruined its desired effect. "Just lie still. Try to stay calm."

"Heart rate still climbing. Brain activity is off the charts." Lillian heard the man pushing buttons with rapidly increasing desperation as the heart monitor began to scream louder. "Stats pushing into the red zone. It's not working!"

The woman had left her side and walked to her own monitor. Shepard felt the strain of straps that held her arms secure as she fought to get up, panic spreading through her mind.

"Give her another dose, now!" the woman commanded from across the room.

Instant euphoria came over her, and her emotional and physical stresses vanished.

"Heart rate dropping. Stats falling back into normal range." The man sighed with relief. "That was too close. We almost lost her."

"I told you your estimates were off," the woman scolded. "Run the numbers again." Before the drugs drove the Commander back into the sleep she awoke from, she saw the beautiful woman standing over her, an unfamiliar look on her face. She'd never really seen it before, but she knew what it was from watching drama vids. It was the look a mother gave her sleeping child.

* * *

_"Wake up Commander."_ Shepard slowly regained consciousness. Still groggy from whatever happened, she had trouble even opening her eyes. Everything still ached, the pain barely bearable. The sounds of medical equipment no longer permeated the air, replaced by explosions, gunfire, and muffled screaming. A painful flashback to the destruction of the _Normandy_ ran through her mind before the woman she just heard spoke again. _"Shepard, do you hear me? Get out of that bed now, this facility is under attack."_ An explosion nearer than the rest jolted her wider awake. She felt several searing hot lines stretch across her face; one directly above her right brow, several on her left cheek, and one extending along her right jaw. As she moved her fingers along them, she could feel that they were gashes a millimeter deep or so. _"Shepard, your scars aren't fully healed, but I need you to get moving."_ The voice sounded like it was coming from inside her head, so a transceiver must have been implanted in her ear. It was a popular procedure among military personnel, as it eliminated the need for external devices, but she'd never had it done. Thoroughly confused and disoriented now, Lillian sorely sat up and quickly scanned her surroundings.

She was in a medical area, that much was certain, but that's where the familiarity ended; this was like no med bay she'd ever seen before. For starters, it was huge, and only accommodated one bed: hers. Giant machines she could only guess the purpose of dotted the room, and piles of medical supplies (drugs, blood packs, and the like) were heaped on shelves, in cabinets, and by operating tables._ "There's a pistol in the locker on the other side of the room, hurry!" _

Adrenaline began to flow as she noticed the urgency in the woman's voice. She pushed herself off the bed with great difficulty, and moved to the locker the woman mentioned. As she advanced, it did not escape her attention that she was dressed in a rather indecent hospital gown. While it was pretty far down the current list of priorities, she would love to find something to wear. Her prayers were answered when she opened the locker and found a uniform, neatly pressed and folded, in a compartment at the bottom. After removing the gown, hoping no one else was looking, she took the black and white shirt and slid it on. The only peculiarity she observed was the unfamiliar insignia on its collar; a vertical yellow hexagon shielded by two lines that covered all but its top. When she finished donning the clothes amidst the unknown woman's insistences that she hurry up, she grabbed the pistol that hung on two pegs along the locker's back wall. She didn't recognize the model, but it was a gun; the principle behind it remained the same.

Shepard scowled upon realization of the pistol's current inability to fire. "This gun doesn't have a heat sink," she complained. Without one, the gun wouldn't have any way to radiate the heat accumulated from firing, and safety locks, designed for the user's protection, were installed to prevent it from operating.

_"It's a med bay,"_ the woman replied. _"We'll get you a clip from – damn it!"_ Shepard noticed the cause of her distress; a receptacle by the med bay's door had popped a gasket and was threatening to blow. _"Those canisters by the door are about to explode – find cover!"_ Stifling her curiosity of why the pistol wouldn't come _with_ a heat sink, Shepard ducked behind some crates. _"Keep your head down Shepard. Shield yourself from the blast!"_ The ensuing explosion blew the heavy metal door of the med bay clean off, sending it flying into the hallway beyond. She popped her head out of cover, and, without waiting for instructions, started for the smoking hole where the exit was. When she entered the hallway, the first thing she noticed was the dead man crushed beneath a large chunk of the door. The second thing she noticed was the insignia on his clothes and on the wall to her left; they were the same as on her uniform. _"Someone's hacking security trying to kill you. Look for a thermal clip for your pistol."_

_Thermal clip? What the hell is she talking about?_ She investigated the pistol in her hands and discovered a rolling slide that could be pulled back as well as a port for some sort of magazine, like the old school combustion pistols. She quickly spotted an item that looked like it went in the port by the dead man's weapon; a small tube with little glowing red lights. Inside were tiny orange heat sinks. Instinctively, she popped the clip in, pulled back the slide, and sure enough, one of the small heat sinks was loaded. While she was unfamiliar with weapons like this, she understood the premise behind them.

The guns she was used to (which had been commissioned since the early twenty second century) employed micro mass accelerator technology combined with mass reducing element zero fields to fire little grains of metal, shaved off a solid ammunition "block," at extremely high velocities. While ammo was never an issue (one "block" could supply thousands of rounds), the weapons generated an enormous amount of heat. Internal heat sinks would absorb the thermal radiation, but had to be vented frequently to prevent the gun from overheating, preventing long bursts of fire. This pistol, it seems, utilized expendable heat sinks, so a user could fire continuously, only having to stop momentarily to eject the clip when it became too hot. _I wonder who came up with this._

State-of-the-art pistol in hand, Shepard rounded a corner only to come face to face with a robot. This robot; however, was also unlike anything Shepard had yet seen. It was bleach white, and had a large red 8 on its face monitor. _Why is it holding a gun?_

"Hostile detected," it blurbed in an electronic monotone as it raised its hands to fire.

But before it could even level its firearm, Shepard had already squeezed off three shots into its weird face, causing its systems to overload. It sputtered a few error messages before detonating rather unsatisfyingly. _"Nice job taking out that mech,"_ the woman remarked_. "Keep moving, we have to get you to the shuttles."_ Lillian hastily made her way up the stairs on her right, and came out into another room. It looked like a cross between an office and the lab she woke up in. _"Shepard!"_ the voice warned. _"Security mechs closing in on your position – take cover!"_

Lillian ducked behind some medical equipment just as four mechs came from two doors directly in front of her. Shots rang out, striking the metal construct she hid behind as well as the wall behind her. _"Don't take any chances. Stay in cover while you take out those mechs."_ Briefly emerging from protection, she popped off two shots that brought down the machine closest to her. She dealt with the rest in a similar way. Shepard pulled back the slide, and a searing hot piece of metal flew out of the gun as the next heat sink loaded. _I could get used to guns like this._

* * *

Shepard found herself in a small, square office some time later. An M-100 grenade launcher, which she had liberated earlier from a dead security officer, was slung on her back. So far, she had used it twice to clear out a group of the seemingly retarded mechs hampering her progress, and it was now down to one shot. The strange woman on the radio, _Miranda, I think she was called,_ had abruptly ceased contact around five minutes ago. The sounds Lillian heard over the connection did not bode well for her; it appeared she got overrun by mechs. To top off the day's horrific events, not two minutes ago did she see a pair of individuals, both wearing a jumpsuit similar to hers, get torn apart by a behemoth of a mech. The damn thing stood almost nine feet tall and had a machine gun for a hand. At least the smaller ones had enough decency to have opposable thumbs. She hoped to God she wouldn't meet one of those.

_That's_ _peculiar_, she thought when she saw the two legless mechs stuffed into a corner of the room. Without anyone to give her direction, Shepard decided she'd have a look around; see what info she could dig up about this place, or at least about the people in it. This room had two terminals, so she opted to start with the one closer to her. _Looks like whoever left this computer did so in a hurry; they didn't bother to lock it._ The name in the top left corner identified the user as Operator M. Lawson. Shepard played the video diary, which had only three entries.

The ravishing woman, Miranda, appeared on the screen and began to speak. "Test subject has been recovered, but the damage was far worse than we'd initially feared. In addition to the expected burns and internal injuries from the explosion, subject has suffered significant cellular breakdown due to long term exposure to vacuum and sub-zero temperatures. Despite the extent of the physical trauma, Wilson ensures me subject is salvageable. The Lazarus project will proceed as planned." The recording terminated.

_Salvageable? What am I, a rusty engine or something? It _is _talking about me, right?_

Shepard played the next entry, and the woman reappeared on the screen. "Progress is slow, but subject shows signs of recovery. Major organs are again functional, and there are signs of rudimentary neurological activity. In an effort to accelerate the process, we've moved from simple organic reconstruction to biosynthetic fusion. Initial results show promise."

The implications of what the woman was saying flooded Lillian's mind, threatening to drown her in a sea of incredulity. It was also quite odd that these items weren't dated; they were just titled "Entry 1", "Entry 2", and so forth.

The Commander played the third and final entry. "Physical reconstruction of the subject is complete, but we still need to evaluate mental and neurological functions. Our orders were clear: make Commander Lillian Shepard who she was before the explosion; the same mind, the same morals, the same personality. If we alter her identity in any way, if she's somehow not the woman she used to be, the Lazarus Project will have failed. I refuse to let that happen."

_Goddamn. At least the project succeeded, far as I can tell._ Curiosity not yet sated, Lillian walked to the other computer. This one was protected with a password, and without her omni-tool, she had no way to hack it. She filed through the papers inside the desk it sat upon, and in just a few seconds found a post-it note with what looked like a password on it. _MisaBITCH85? M is a bitch?_ It didn't take long to figure that M probably referred to the woman on the other computer. Shepard typed the code on the computer, and, sure enough, it worked. The name in the top corner identified its owner as Wiiiiiiiilsooooon! _Wilson. Why does that name sound familiar?_ She couldn't quite put her finger on it.

After a few seconds, Shepard discovered that most of the data on this computer was corrupted. She opened the audio diaries, but only three entries were salvageable. This guy also didn't like to date his entries. Bits of his journal were distorted; some bits stuttering a little, others completely incomprehensible. "Log update: the c-c-c-cost of this project is astronomical; over – llion credits so far. But no one seems to care we've gone over budget. I don't know where the boss-s-s-s gets all his money. Mayb-b-b-by it's better not to know. – ust wish he'd kick a l-l-l-little more in my direction once in a while."

_That's the doctor who was there the first time I woke up!_ Shepard mentally exclaimed. She knew she recognized his name! _I would've liked to know how much money it cost, though. A million? A billion? Seven hundred sixty four quintillion?_ She'd never find out here, it would seem.

"Log u-u-u-update: I can't figure Miranda out. As proj – ctor, she should be ecstatic at the progress we've made. But she's still the same old ice queen. Maybe she's worried-d-d-d Shepard might become the new favorite. Or maybe she _is_ j-j-j-just a cold hearted bitch." _Things are getting curiouser and curiouser,_ Shepard thought, mimicking Alice.

She played the final entry. "Log update: the Lazarus Project is about to enter its final phase. I-i-i-it's taken nearly – but we d-d-d-did it. Commander Shepard is alive! This is the most amazing medical achievement i – orded history! Maybe now Miranda w-w-w-will show some appreciation for everything I've done."

Shepard scowled. _Are you serious? Of all things, the time I've spent dead gets cut out. I need some goddamn answers!_ Feeling she'd wasted enough time snooping around, Shepard turned on her heel and stormed out of the room.

* * *

Jacob Taylor was an experienced and exemplary soldier, but damn! These mechs were fighting a war of attrition, and he had only so much fight in him. He needed support. But no one would respond to his hails on the radio, nor had anyone tried to contact him. And now, in the middle of a walkway, one thermal clip left for his pistol, and an army of mechs across the way, he was up shit creek without a paddle. And he didn't know how to swim. He popped out of cover and fired a couple of rounds from his M-3 Predator, taking one of the mechs down, but the situation was hopeless. _Oh shit_. Jacob heard footsteps behind him, but was relieved to hear they fell in rapid succession, unlike the slow clamber of a mech. His relief quickly turned to surprise when he saw who those steps belonged to.

"Shepard?" he exclaimed. "What the hell…" He was surprised even further when she unloaded her gun into the mechs across the way, decimating them. She ducked behind cover next to him as the next wave of reinforcements started returning fire. _How's she survived this long without armor?_ "What are you doing here? I thought you were a work in progress."

"Are you with Miranda?" she asked bluntly, throwing him off guard.

_How does she know who Miranda is?_ "Yeah… sorry. I forgot this is all new to you right now. I'm Jacob Taylor. I've been stationed here for –" he was cut off as a mech's bullet ricocheted off the wall next to him. "Damn it!" he squeezed off a couple of rounds into the mech's head, and it exploded. _Who the hell designed them to do that, anyway?_ He had amassed a small collection of burns when one mech or another blew up next to him. Focusing, he turned his attention back to Shepard, despite the three other machines shooting at them. They were safe (ish) as long as they kept their heads down. "Things must be worse than I'd thought if Miranda's got you running around. I'll fill you in, but we'd better get you to the shuttle first."

Shepard's tone got a lot more irritated the next time she spoke. It even looked like the glowing orange scars on her face became more prominent. "Ever since I woke up, someone's been telling me where to go and what to do. I need answers!"

"Fair enough, I'll give you the quick version. You and your ship were attacked and destroyed. You were killed; dead as dead can be when they brought you here. Our scientists spent the last two years putting you back together. You've been comatose, or worse, that whole time. Welcome back to your life."

"That's…" She closed her eyes as she took in the startling news. "I'm having trouble wrapping my head around this."

"Yeah, I can imagine." He tried to sympathize, but hadn't really braved the necessary ordeals for it to come off as authentic. "The Alliance officially declared you killed in action. The whole galaxy thinks you're dead. And if we don't get to those shuttles, they'll be right."

"Were there any other survivors from the _Normandy_?"

"I'll tell you what – you help me finish off these mechs, and I'll play Twenty Questions with you all day. We're low on thermal clips, but I'm a biotic. Just give the order when you want me to hit 'em with the good stuff." To prove his point, he swung his arm, and one of the mechs, encased in a faint blue glow, began floating lazily toward them, helpless.

In utero exposure element zero allows people like Jacob to manipulate dark energy into powerful mass effect fields using electrical impulses from their brain. Without the aid of implanted element zero nodules, their power is minimal; most are able to lift nothing heavier than a few peas. _With_ implants and a suitable amplifier; however, biotics can, with training, lift and hurl large objects at incredible velocities, rip matter apart on the molecular level, form and maintain a kinetic barrier analogous to those on a suit of armor, and even create small singularities capable of suspending several grown humans for a few seconds. Jacob was no super-biotic, but he could still knock people around some. Besides, his physical condition more than picked up the slack. He does over a thousand crunches each morning.

Within thirty seconds, the two soldiers had made short work of the remaining mechs, reducing them to smoking piles of scrap metal. Jacob stood up and holstered his pistol, mechanisms within the weapon collapsing it into a compact prism for convenience of carry. He saw that Shepard relaxed a little, but her gun remained in hand, at her side. "Okay. I promised I'd answer your questions. What do you want to know?"

"Do you know anything about this attack? Who's behind it, what they're after?"

"Damned if I know. I was getting ready for some shuteye – then BAM! Bunch of explosions. Next thing I know, every damn mech in the place starts shooting… at us. I'm guessing it had to be an inside job. You'd need top security access to hack all the mechs."

"The last thing I remember was the _Normandy_ blowing up." Shepard continued with the utmost haste. "Did anyone else make it?" She looked pained, but hopeful.

"Just about everybody survived. A few servicemen from the lower decks didn't get out. Navigator Pressly was killed by an explosion. But everyone else, including the non-Alliance crew – the asari, Liara, and the quarian – they all made it out alive."

"Do you know what any of them are doing now?"

"I don't know, Commander. It's been two years. They've moved on; left the Alliance. Could be anywhere."

"They were my team. If they knew I was alive, they'd come back."

"Maybe you can track them down once we get off the station. _If_ we get off the station."

She sighed. It was a mix of frustration, confusion, and disappointment. "You say they spent two years rebuilding me? How bad were my injuries?"

"I'm no doctor, but it was _bad_. When I first saw you, you were nothing but meat and tubes. Anywhere else and they'd have put you in a coffin. But Project Lazarus was different. Cutting-edge technology."

"What can you tell me about the project? Were there other test subjects?"

Jacob shook his head. "Project Lazarus had only one subject. The whole point was to bring _you_ back. Just you. Even that was a challenge. _Two years_. All the top scientists. The best technology money could buy."

"Wait, what do mean? Cloning? Cybernetics?"

"I don't know the details; you'd have to ask the scientists. But I'm _pretty_ sure you're not a clone. They wanted to bring you back exactly as you were. You're still you. You might just have a few extra bits and pieces now."

Shepard nodded, but he could tell she was a little rattled. "So…" she said, trying to dispel some of the tension. "What do you do here?"

_Damn, this girl asks a lot of questions._ "Technically, I'm Miranda's top lieutenant. But I'm just a soldier. I served five years in the Alliance before this. Now I'm in charge of the station's security. Usually a lot more dull than this. Normally, I don't fire my gun unless it's target practice. Now we really should get going…"

"One last thing: when I first woke up, someone named Miranda was talking to me over the radio. We lost contact a few minutes before I ran into you."

"Miranda Lawson is the station's ranking officer. She led the Lazarus team. It was her job to bring you back to life, no matter what. Should've guessed she'd try to save you; she's not about to give up on you now. You said you lost contact – could you tell what was happening?" A hint of worry tinged his voice. He hoped the Commander wouldn't notice.

"There was some gunfire and an explosion right before I lost her."

"She knows how to take care of herself… but I hope she's okay."

_She'd better be._ Since they met nearly two years ago, he and Miranda had been friends, lovers, and everything in between. The two broke off any romantic involvement when they realized that attachment was a weakness, and in their line of work they could ill afford to be weak. They have still maintained a deep friendship since then, but they'd taken silent vows to not let their feelings for each other cloud their judgment.

"Alright Jacob, what's the quickest way to those shuttles?"

Snapping back to reality, "It depends where the mechs are thickest, it's probably best if we –"

His radio beeped. _"Check. Check. Anyone on this frequency? Anybody still alive out there? Hello?" _He recognized the voice.

Jacob held two fingers to his ear, the universal "I'm on the phone" signal. "Wilson? This is Jacob. I'm here with Commander Shepard. Just took out a wave of mechs over in D Wing."

_"Shepard's alive? How the hell… never mind. You need to get her out of there. Get to the service tunnels and head for the network control room_._"_

"Roger that Wilson. Stay on this frequency." He put his hand down.

"I think I remember a Wilson checking up on me one time when I woke up…"

"Yeah, that's him. He's the chief medical tech. Answers directly to Miranda." He noted how Shepard seemed to take in the information, storing it away like a squirrel stores nuts for winter. God know's what she'd use it for. "C'mon, the service tunnels are this way."

* * *

This Jacob guy seemed decent enough, but Lillian didn't know if she could trust him. And it _wasn't_ because he was black. Though he answered all her questions honestly (she could tell), he didn't divulge any information without prompt. She wanted to see if he'd tell her, of his own accord, what organization he worked for. While Shepard was an expert at reading people (despite her antisocial tendencies), she couldn't tell if he omitted the knowledge out of an unwillingness to broach the subject or out of lack of necessity. She decided to reserve judgment, for now.

Before she met up with Jacob, she had a rather unsettling experience; she discovered yet another horrifying fact about that large mech she saw earlier; it shot rockets, too. She ascertained this in a way similar to how she found out about its machinegun. Some unlucky medical professional got backed into a corner by one. The person turned to Shepard, who was on the other side of the ballistic glass window, and screamed for help before a missile split her into pieces. She'd witnessed countless deaths before, but there was something about dismemberment (and civilian casualties) that really bothered her, probably because of what happened on Akuze…

"Subduing hostiles," blurbed a mech, its gunfire forcing Shepard to focus. There were four more behind it in the red lit room Shepard and Taylor had run into.

"Damn it Wilson, this room is crawling with mechs!" Jacob exclaimed. Despite the inconvenience, he and Shepard were beginning to discover that together, destroying these mechs was becoming child's play; they didn't put up much of a fight and could go down with a single well placed shot. Their combined combat skills, add to that Jacob's biotics, now made them little more dangerous than practice dummies. Shepard still had to be careful though, due to the fact that she had neither armor nor the biotics to create a barrier. Jacob was wearing his black and white suit (seemed this organization loved that color combo; that's what everyone wore), so he was covered in that regard.

Annoyed, Jacob hollered into his radio, "Wilson? Find us another route out of here, preferably one that doesn't lead strait into an enemy squad!" Jacob's expression suddenly got a lot more distressed as Wilson relayed something back. "Wilson? Where are you?" After a few seconds of silent running, Jacob pointed to their left, "Up those stairs, Shepard!"

Following Jacob's lead, the two dashed around a few more corners until they found themselves in some sort of server room. Shepard immediately spotted the man crumpled near a console, gripping his bleeding leg. _That's odd, I don't see any mechs._ Shepard noticed there was a small bridge connecting the room they were in with a hallway beyond, but it was blocked by a giant crate. _Maybe it was a hit and run._ "Jacob, Shepard. Down here." Lillian recognized the rough tone the man spoke with as well as his bald dome and scruffy beard. "The bastards got me in the leg."

"You were there the first time I regained consciousness," Shepard stated bluntly.

"Yeah, that was me. Hurgh!" He grimaced in pain as blood gushed from his limb. "How about we talk about this _after_ we fix my leg?"

Jacob pointed. "There should be some medi-gel in the first aid station on the wall. Hopefully there's enough to get him moving again."

Shepard ran to it, and dispensed a dose of the paste, sealed in a little foil wrap that looked akin to a stick of butter. She hurried back to Wilson, who was in real danger of bleeding out, and applied the medi gel on the wound. The stuff instantly solidified, sealing the injury and preventing any more blood loss.

Medi-gel, developed by the Earth based Sirta Foundation known for dabbling in genetic modification, is basically a cure-all. It combines a strong dose of clotting agent, a lot of disinfectant, and a few other things to instantly heal injuries. While technically illegal in Council Space, as it violates several intergalactic laws against genetic modification, it has proven far too useful to ban. Countless lives, both on and off the battlefield, have been saved due to this green serum. Some soldiers even have advanced interfaces built into their armor that applies small doses of the substance to mend minor injuries sustained during combat.

Wilson stood up, testing his leg's capabilities before shifting his weight onto it. He looked gratefully at the Commander. "Thanks, Shepard. Never thought you'd save _my_ life. I guess that makes us even now." His tone hardened, as did his resolve. "I thought maybe I could shut down the security mechs, but whoever did this fried the whole system. Completely irreversible."

Shepard took notice of how he went out of his way to explain his activities. It seemed that Jacob beat her to punch, though. "We didn't ask what you were doing," he said. "Why do you even have security mech clearance? You were in the bio wing."

"Weren't you listening? I came here to try and fix this. Besides, I was shot! How do you explain that?"

Shepard interrupted, "I don't care who set up who – those mechs are shooting at all of us. We'll sort it out later."

"We need to find Miranda first," Jacob announced. "We can't just leave her behind."

"Forget about Miranda," Wilson said, venom seeping into his voice. Shepard recalled his dislike for her. "She was over in D wing. The mechs were all over that sector. There's no way she survived."

Defiance in his voice, "A bunch of mechs won't drop Miranda. She's alive."

Jacob was so caught up with emotion that it didn't occur odd to him that Wilson somehow knew where Miranda was, or maybe Shepard was just missing something. _Better keep quiet for now, at least until I know more._

"Then where is she?" Wilson challenged. "Why haven't we heard from her? There are only two possible explanations: she's either dead, or she's a traitor!"

"Then why did she wake me up and warn me about the attack?" Shepard cut off.

"Okay, maybe she's not a traitor," Wilson considered. "But that doesn't change the facts; we're here, she's not. We need to save ourselves. The shuttle bay is only a few –"

Wilson was interrupted when several mechs made their entrance, piling behind the crate blocking their path. Without hesitation, Wilson raised his hand, and with a few taps on his holographic omni-tool, ran an electrical current through the crate, causing it to explode. When the smoke cleared, no mech was left standing. _Damn, this guy's one hell of a tech expert. Wish I could do that._

Lillian had never really taken the time to learn how to optimize her military grade omni-tool for combat; she preferred to handle things with a sniper rifle. Despite her lack of knowledge into tech warfare, she was among the most skilled hackers in the Alliance. There was virtually no security system Shepard couldn't circumvent, no lock she couldn't pick, and no safe she couldn't crack. These skills, combined with her agility and finesse made her a qualified infiltrator, and her military profile identified her as such.

"That's it!" Wilson cried. "Let's get out of here."

"Okay, we took them down, but this is getting tense." Jacob halted. "Shepard, if I tell you who we work for, will you trust me?"

"This really isn't the time, Jacob," Wilson chimed.

"We won't make it if she's expecting a shot in the back," Jacob rebutted.

"If you want to piss off the boss, it's your ass, Jacob." Wilson crossed his arms, put out.

Jacob turned his gaze towards Shepard. "The Lazarus Project; the program that rebuilt you… it's funded and controlled by Cerberus."

Lillian's brows furrowed as she recounted the abominable experiments she saw performed by Cerberus in the months before the _Normandy_ blew up. They ran gruesome tests on rachni, Thorian creepers, and even on her; the events on Akuze were linked directly to Cerberus. "I wiped out my share of Cerberus projects when I was a Spectre. Back then, they were trying to kill me. Why the sudden change of heart?"

"Those answers are way above my pay grade. But basically – things change. The Alliance declared you dead. They gave up. Cerberus spent a fortune to bring you back." Observing her skepticism, Jacob added, "Look, I'd be suspicious too. But right now, we have to work together. I thought you deserved to know what's what. Once we're off the station, I'll take you to the Illusive Man. He'll explain everything. I promise."

"Illusive Man? Is he in charge of all this?"

"Yeah," Wilson answered. "That's not his real name, of course. Nobody knows who he really is."

"It was a code name the Alliance used for him," Jacob clarified. "It kinda stuck."

Dissatisfied, Shepard turned toward the hallway behind her. "Well, if I won't get any more answers here, let's get moving."

"It's not much farther to the shuttle bay," Wilson assured.

In a few minutes, the trio found themselves in a large cargo area with boxes arranged in stacks fifteen feet high. The only thing standing between them and their destination on the other side were a few squadrons of mechs. Lillian, Jacob, and Wilson cut through their foes like a hot knife through butter. They had silently agreed on a battle strategy; Jacob and Wilson would soften enemies up with their biotic and tech skills (respectively) and Shepard, who was by far the best shot, would finish them off. This game plan worked well for them; they made their way to the large shuttle bay doors with no casualties in a more than acceptable timespan. Wilson ran to the console to punch in his access codes. "C'mon, through here," he said. "We're almost at the…"

He spun in shock as the door opened before he finished his input. The woman on the radio, Miranda, walked out of the shuttle bay towards the party, stopping to glare at Wilson. "Miranda," he blurted. "But you were –"

Miranda violently interrupted Wilson with a quick gunshot between the eyes. "Dead?" she asked.

Running up next to Shepard, Jacob exclaimed, "What the hell are you doing?"

"My job," she curtly replied. "Wilson betrayed us all."

Her gun raised, Shepard butted in. "Even if you're sure, did he deserve that welcome?" Miranda seemed unfazed by the gun trained on her head.

"He sabotaged the security systems, killed my staff, and he would have killed us."

"You sure about that Miranda? We've known Wilson for years. What if you're wrong?"

"I'm never wrong. I thought you'd have learned that by now, Jacob."

Shepard with unwavering gun, her colder, tactical side emerging, "You should've at least taken him alive. See what he knew."

"Too risky," Miranda returned. "I've put too much time and effort bringing you back to life to let you get killed now."

"You really think Wilson's capable of that?" asked an unnerved Jacob.

Miranda turned to face Jacob with deliberate slowness. "Not anymore," came her pithy response.

Lillian finally lowered her pistol. Though she didn't trust this Miranda, not in the least, she obviously wasn't a direct threat. _Not yet, anyway._ "Alright, if you say so," she submitted, more out of nonchalance than acceptance. "What's our next step?"

"We get on the shuttle and go," she said, pointing to the vehicle behind her. "My boss wants to speak with you."

"You mean the Illusive Man? I know you work with Cerberus," came Shepard, loathing in her voice.

"Ah, Jacob," she threw him a sideways glance. "I should've known your conscience would get the better of you."

"Lying to the Commander isn't the way to get her to join our cause," he justified.

"Well, since we're getting everything out in the open, is there anything you want to ask before we go, Commander?"

"Yes, actually. Isn't it a bit… _convenient,_ that you show up just as we're leaving? Where were you during the attack?"

"Besides trying to save your life?" Miranda quipped. "Wilson figured out I was helping you, and he sent an army of mechs to take me out. I got here as soon as I could." She glanced at the body, drawing Shepard's vision down as well. "Probably a little _too_ soon, if you ask Wilson."

Shepard nodded grimly before looking back up. "You're the Lazarus Project's director, aren't you?" she asked.

"That's right. I put two years of my life into this project – into you."

"Why? What does Cerberus want with me?"

"Maybe you should ask the Illusive Man when you meet him. He poured virtually unlimited resources into Lazarus. Obviously he has some kind of plan for you."

"Speaking of which," Shepard continued, "where exactly are we going?"

"Another Cerberus facility," Miranda answered coolly. "The Illusive Man is waiting for you there."

"I'm not sure I trust you."

"This," she responded, her voice wavering ever so slightly with irritation, "is the only shuttle off the station. You want to stay and rot with the mechs? Be my guest."

"What about the rest of the people on the station?" Shepard demanded.

"This is the evac area. If they're not here now, they're not coming."

"We can't leave without knowing for sure. We need to go back and look."

"Don't you get it? The only one worth saving is you; everybody else is expendable."

Shepard looked at Jacob, hoping to get his support. He surprised her with his answer. "She's right, Shepard. We all knew the risks when we signed up. Without you, there's no point to any of this."

This is preposterous! If it were her crew, Lillian wouldn't leave until she made certain that each and every person was safe or beyond saving before she left. Then again, she wasn't _Cerberus_; she wasn't a terrorist.

"Fine," Shepard caved. "I've had enough of this station to last a lifetime."

"Or two, in your case," Miranda announced. "Come on."

* * *

Author's note: Don't take my very inpolitically correct introduction to Jacob's blackness. It had to be done some way, right. Also interesting, I've noticed that nowhere have I specified that any other character (Joker, Pressly, Shepard(s), Miranda, TIM) is indeed white. Take that however you will, but please don't hate me :).


	3. The Illusive Man

Author's note: Holy hell, I did this chapter in one day. I'm changing the expected times between uploads from every other week to _at least_ every other week. The more I write, the better I seem to get. Thanks to everyone who has followed and favorited this story; your support is much appreciated. Once again, I will gladly take any advice anyone may have of where to go with this story, just message me, or write a review, or something!

By the way, just in case i get sued: I do not own the rights to Mass Effect or its story, those rights belong to EA and Bioware or whoever the hell else. Do not upload or distribute this story elsewhere without my permission. Please.

* * *

_Salvation comes with a cost. Judge us not by our means, but what we seek to accomplish._ – The Illusive Man

* * *

God, it seems, has a really odd sense of humor, sometimes bordering on cruel. Lillian still was not over the fact that she was in bed with Cerberus. These people were radicals; pro-human extremists that occasionally dabbled in horrific experiments and terrorism. The closest things in history even mildly comparable to them were the Nazis and Al Qaeda, and they've been gone for a long time, long enough that she learned about them in junior history class. _Not like I volunteered to talk with them. But there must be some reason they spent so much time and money to bring me back. I should hear them out, at the very least._ Right now, she, Miranda, and Jacob were on a shuttle speeding at faster than light speeds toward the Illusive Man, so her chance to talk to him was drawing near. She wondered where all of her old friends were, if she'd ever meet them again. Garrus, Tali, Liara, Joker… hell, even Wrex would be a welcome sight. And what about Kaidan? They were more than friends. How did he take her death? Did he move on, find someone else? Lillian wouldn't blame him if he had; she wouldn't have wanted him to mope for the rest of his life. And John. He must've taken her death worst of all. She was the only family he ever had; it had the two of them versus the world from day one. Shepard felt a trickle of moisture descend from her left eye. She wiped the tear away, not caring how it made her look in the eyes of the present company.

"Before you meet with the Illusive Man, we need to ask a few questions to evaluate your condition."

Shepard snapped back to reality, more relieved than angry that her reminiscing was interrupted. She fixed Miranda with an attentive stare.

"Come on, Miranda," came Jacob's voice. "More tests? Shepard took down those mechs without any trouble. That has to be good enough."

"It's been two years since the attack. The Illusive man needs to know that Shepard's personality and memories are intact. Ask the questions."

"This is a waste of time," said Shepard, who was silent until now. "I feel as good as ever." This was a damn lie, but she didn't want to talk about herself, especially not about her past.

"The sooner we start, the sooner we can be done," said Miranda. Turning to Jacob, she ordered, "Start with personal history."

"Okay," Jacob gave in, seeing further argument was pointless. He brought up a list on his omni-tool. "Records show you grew up on Earth with your brother. Tough environment, no parents."

"Yeah," Shepard stated. Though calling their childhood "tough" was a vast understatement.

Because their mother reported being exposed to eezo during her pregnancy, the two of them were taken to be poked, prodded, and experimented on for the first seven years of their lives. Only one of them, her brother, showed any sort of biotic potential. When the city government of Vancouver discovered this illegal research facility, they shut it down, and most of the kids there (who weren't kidnaps) were taken in as wards of the state. They were sent to a decrepit little orphanage in the city slums called Saint Peters Acclaimed Condominium for Youths (the kids called it SPACY), and were enrolled into the poorly funded local public schools. They joined a gang, the Tenth Street Reds, when they were fourteen, since that was the only way to survive. Her brother was the only real member; she was kept on only by John's good standing with them. No doubt he had to cash in a lot of favors. It was funny: even though he was the younger one (by eight minutes), he always filled the role of the older brother. He helped her any way he could to get good grades so she could go to Harvard and become a lawyer or something. Clearly, she didn't end up going down the career path.

"You enlisted, and were accepted into the N7 training program, along with your brother," Jacob continued. "This was after the two of you showed remarkable ability under strenuous circumstances."

When John told her he was enlisting, she didn't know what to do. The two had never been separated before, so she did the only thing she thought made sense; she enlisted right alongside him. He protested vehemently, but his words fell on stubborn ears. He eventually, albeit begrudgingly, accepted her decision. They went to the same boot camp, but were separated when their superiors assigned them different postings. She was assigned aboard the _SSV Prague_, a medium-sized Alliance carrier, as a member of their shore party. She made First Lieutenant during her five years on that ship. Her brother, on the other hand, was sent to protect the newly established colony on the planet Elysium, right on the border with the Terminus Systems. He made waves four years later, when he almost single-handedly repelled an invasion by batarian slavers. He was awarded the Star of Terra, the highest honor any individual can achieve, for "meritorious actions above and beyond the call of duty". She remembered seeing his name and face plastered on everything, from television screens to T-shirts, for a few months after that. Her time in the spotlight came the year after, but…

"Your ship was sent to investigate the colony of Akuze, which had gone dark a few days before under mysterious circumstances. You survived a thresher maw attack that wiped out the rest of your team. Do you remember that?"

Shepard gave a painful nod. "I lost a lot of friends that day. Going through something like that changes you. It can break you, if you let it."

It almost did, too. In the months after the events on Akuze, Lillian had more than one nervous breakdown, even once during an interview. She was diagnosed with Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder, and suffered nightmares and insomnia for over a year. Nevertheless, her strong will got her inducted into the N7 Special Forces training program, despite her mental instability. Her training, paired with intense therapy, conditioned her mind to accept those losses. Now she's moved past it, but it still hurt to think about.

"Yeah, I read the report," Jacob condoled. "Fifty marines died on Akuze. You were the only one who lived."

That last bit was incorrect; during her hunt for Saren, Shepard had found one of her old squadmates, Corporal Toombs, in a Cerberus facility. He was pointing a gun to a lead scientist's head, apparently having escaped confinement. There in that building, it was revealed that Cerberus was responsible for the thresher maws attacking Akuze. He was later taken by search teams and subjected to cruel and unusual tests. That day, one scared Cerberus dog departed the galaxy. It didn't appear that Miranda or Jacob knew that she knew the truth, so she decided to save it for the Illusive Man. _Besides, who's to say these two even know anything about it?_

"You satisfied, Miranda?"

"Almost," she replied, Jacob's impatience irritating her. "Let's try something more recent. Virmire, where you destroyed Saren's cloning facility. You had to leave one of your squad behind to die in the blast."

"Gunnery Chief Ashley Williams was killed in action," Jacob supplemented. "It was your call. Why did you leave her behind?" His voice wasn't accusatory, but it still made her made her mad nonetheless.

"I left a friend to die that day, and I didn't do it casually. But John and I had to save as many people as we could. Ash gave her life for the rest of the team. Without her, I couldn't have stopped Saren. She died a hero."

"I understand, Commander," Jacob conceded. "And I wasn't judging your decision. Everybody at Cerberus knows that cloning facility had to be destroyed."

"Shepard, think back to the Citadel, after the Council died on the _Destiny Ascension_, and you killed Saren. What happened next?" Miranda was relentless in her questioning.

"With the Council dead, humanity stepped into power. We formed a new Council. I recommended Captain Anderson to lead it."

Ah, Captain Anderson, the closest thing she and John had to a father. He was among the most decorated officers in the Alliance Navy. She remembered Pressly saying that if they took all of Anderson's medals, melted them down, they could make a life sized statue of himself. It was his reputation that made the Alliance choose him to captain the _Normandy_. Anderson handpicked the crew of the ship himself, from Lillian and her brother (his XOs) to the cook. When she and John became Spectres, Anderson relieved himself of his command and gave the _Normandy_ to them. As if it weren't bad enough having two XOs on a starship, now there were two captains. But they made it work, despite the war over the captain's cabin. Anderson helped the Shepards in more ways than one, so she recommended him for the Council. John, being hospitalized, had no say in the matter, but he expressed satisfaction on hearing the decision.

"Yes," Miranda asserted. "Captain Anderson is now _Councilor_ Anderson. Though from what I hear, he preferred life in the military."

"Still," added Jacob, "good to know that the human Council member isn't going to put politics ahead of defense."

"Your memory seems solid," Miranda affirmed. "There are other tests we really should run –"

"Come on Miranda," Jacob objected. "Enough with the quizzes. The memories are there, and I can vouch for her combat skills personally."

"I suppose you're right. We'll have to hope the Illusive Man accepts our little field test as evidence enough."

* * *

"The Illusive Man is waiting for you in the other room." Miranda seemed indisposed as she typed on a console by the window. This space station, from what she saw out of the shuttle, was huge, rivaling even Arcturus Station in length. Cerberus logos decorated almost every wall, uniform, and piece of furniture in the place. There was an armor and weapons locker in the room they were in; she had been made to relinquish her arms before entering the station. She parted with them willingly, but begrudgingly; she didn't like being unarmed.

She walked over the armor locker to see the prototype model Jacob told her about on the ride over. He said it was called "Phantom Armor". She reviewed the specs as well as the pre-rendered image. _It certainly doesn't lack for style._ Shepard mentally commented. It was a sleek, black white and orange suit designed to fit tightly while maintaining comfort. It had a kind of low cut trench coat that provided an additional layer of ceramic plating and kinetic barriers for her torso. It sported a helmet with an advanced heads up display, and it could retract into the suit in a way similar to how guns collapsed. It came with a long sword sharpened at the molecular level, dense enough to use without fear of damaging it, but light enough to use without difficulty. _It kind of looks like a katana._ While all that was well and good, the most intriguing feature about the suit was its cloaking mechanism by far. For a short period of time, the suit could become completely invisible to optics and scanners. He also said Cerberus constructed a suit of N7 armor just for her, and that it had the same stealth system. Lillian decided to try out this "Phantom Armor" first, just to get a feel. But first, she had to have her talk with the Illusive Man.

Shepard stepped into the room Miranda mentioned to find it dark and empty. It was a circular chamber, and had only a bright gray circle in the center of the floor to break up its monotony. She stepped onto the circle, and a holographic orange cylinder began to move along her body, from her feet up. _Decontamination?_ No, the grid marks it left as it ascended betrayed it as a scanner. When it reached the ceiling, a panoramic screen activated in front of her, giving her a nice view of a large, empty office. A bright star, neither entirely blue nor red, cast a dark shadow over the only occupant in the room. He sat in his chair, legs crossed, smoking a cigarette, looking directly at her with piercing, glowing blue eyes. One side of his face was partially illuminated. He had fair skin, arched brows, graying wavy hair, and a steely demeanor.

"Commander Shepard," he said, his voice tainted neither with awe nor surprise, but cool indifference.

"Illusive man," Lillian replied, crossing her arms. "I thought we'd be meeting face to face."

"A necessary precaution," he contended. "Not unusual for people who know what you and I know." He took a puff from his smoke, embers flaring as he sucked air through them.

"You may be the reason I'm still alive, but that doesn't mean I trust you."

He pointed at her, and in a tone more scolding than angry, "You need to put your personal feelings aside. Humanity is up against the greatest threat of our brief existence."

"The Reapers."

The Illusive Man nodded. "Good to see your memory's still intact. How are you feeling?" He tapped off the growing column of ash on his cigarette.

"I noticed a few upgrades. I hope you didn't replace anything really important."

"We tried to keep you as intact as possible. We need Lillian Shepard – just as she was when she defeated Sovereign."

Shepard had to fight the urge to scowl at hearing that name. Sovereign, the Reaper who attacked the Citadel, had caused her many pains during her hunt for Saren. With the aid of the Alliance's First, Third, and Fifth Fleets, Shepard took Sovereign down, preventing it from opening a portal to dark space. If its plan had succeeded, the Reapers would have invaded full force, likely resulting in the destruction of the Citadel's fleets and the subsequent extinction of every space faring species. The new Council refuses to acknowledge Sovereign's true nature, much like their predecessors, choosing instead to blame the attack on the geth. That's why Shepard was in the Omega Nebula when her ship was destroyed! _It was the Council's fault I died!_ The list of incentives to team up with Cerberus wasn't getting any shorter. "What are the Reapers doing that made you decide to bring me back?"

The Illusive Man stood up and took a few steps toward Shepard. "We're at war. No one wants to admit it, but humanity is under attack." He still held his cigarette. "While you've been sleeping, entire colonies have been disappearing. Human colonies. We believe it's someone working for the Reapers. Just as Saren and the geth aided Sovereign. You've seen it yourself. You bested all of them. That's just one reason we chose you."

"You could have trained an army for what you spent to bring me back."

"You're unique. Not just in ability or what you've experienced, but in what you represent. And I don't know if the Reapers understand fear, but you killed one. They have to respect that." Uncannily predicting her next question, he continued, "I know you didn't do it alone. If anything, your brother played a larger role by activating those Prothean beacons." Lillian flashed back to Eden Prime, where she first learned of Saren and his plot. She saved Kaidan from the beacon's pull, only to be saved from it in turn by her brother, who received the information stored within it. "He made clear his… disinclination to join our cause," continued the Illusive Man, "even after we told him of your reconstruction."

"How so?" asked Lillian. Knowing her brother, it probably involved a biotic kick.

"Unimportant," the Illusive Man evaded. "If you think you can change his mind when you meet him, _if_ you meet him, feel free. I'm willing to bury the hatchet if it ensures the success of your mission."

"What _is_ my mission?"

"What it has always been. To stop the Reapers."

On that note, Shepard moved to her next question. "Sovereign was trying to harvest all life in the galaxy. Why would the Reapers target a few human colonies?"

"Hundreds of thousands of colonists have vanished," he answered. "I'd say that fits the definition of 'harvesting'." Again anticipating her next question, "Nobody's paying attention because it's random, and the attacks occur in remote locations. I don't know why they've suddenly targeted humanity. Maybe you got their attention when you killed one of them."

"If this is a threat against humanity," Shepard challenged, "you need to mobilize the Alliance."

"The Alliance is overwhelmed by the responsibility you gave them. They're too busy building relations to put resources into verifying the Reaper threat. Blaming the abductions on mercs and pirates is easier, and more convenient."

_This guy has an answer for everything, doesn't he?_ "Fighting a war doesn't sound like Cerberus," the Commander commented. "Why are you involved?"

"We're committed to the advancement and preservation of humanity," he said matter-of-factly, like he had that printed on a bumper sticker. "If the Reapers are targeting us, trying to wipe us out, Cerberus will stop them. If we wait for the politicians or the Alliance to act, no more human colonies will be left."

Shepard nodded in approval. After a few seconds of silence, she reached consensus. "If what you say is true… if the Reapers are behind this… I'd _consider_ helping you."

The Illusive Man smiled, showing a few teeth unnaturally white for a smoker. "I'd be disappointed if you accepted any of this without seeing for yourself." He turned and began walking back towards his chair. He sat down. "I have a shuttle ready to take you to Freedom's Progress, the latest colony to be abducted. Miranda and Jacob will brief you."

"Miranda killed Wilson in cold blood," Shepard protested. "Jacob's just a gun for hire. You expect me to trust them?"

The Illusive Man sighed. "Wilson was one of my best agents, but he was a traitor. Miranda did exactly what was expected of her, and she saved your life in more ways than one. And Jacob's a soldier, one of the best. He's never fully trusted me, but he's always been honest about it." Those statements won some points for Jacob, but Miranda? Not so much. "You'll be just fine with them, for now," the Illusive Man finished, trying to allay her suspicions.

"What do think I'll find on Freedom's Progress?"

"If I knew that, I wouldn't need to send you. Find any clues you can. Who's abducting the colonies? Do they have any connections to the Reapers?" Taking a long draw from his cigarette before extinguishing it, "I brought you back. It's up to you to do the rest." With that, he brought up a holographic panel on his chair and terminated to connection.

* * *

Miranda Lawson could feel the pair of eyes watching her. They weren't filled with malice or sexual interest, but rather with curiosity. The gaze belonged to Commander Shepard. She had this effect on most people, male or female. Hell, it was how she was designed. She didn't turn around to face the Commander, choosing instead to continue typing her report. After a few seconds, she heard Shepard's steady march toward her. When she reached around five feet away, Miranda started speaking. "The Illusive Man is very impressed with you. I'm eager to see if you can live up to his expectations on this mission."

"I can't have anybody disobeying my commands when we get there." Shepard clearly did not trust her. That was okay, Cerberus didn't need her trust, only her cooperation.

Still typing, "I know who I report to. As long as you don't do anything to betray Cerberus, I'll follow your orders." She put her report on hiatus, standing straight to look the Commander in the face. Shepard was an inch or two shorter than her, but had all the grace and radiance she did.

Shepard rubbed the back of her neck before saying, "I, uh, never got a chance to say how much I appreciate what the Lazarus Project did for me." The gratitude in her voice was genuine.

"I just hope it was worth it," Miranda said, coldly. "A lot of people lost their lives on that station."

Shepard frowned. "We have to work together here," she began. "Your attitude isn't helping anything."

Miranda's brow furrowed to show her displeasure, but her voice remained unchanged. "I have the utmost respect for your abilities, Shepard. It's your motivations that concern me. I believe in what Cerberus stands for. Only time will tell if you prove to be an asset or a liability to our cause."

"Alright then." After a short pause, "What can you tell me about this colony we're going to?"

"Freedom's Progress? It's a typical human colony in the Terminus Systems. They had a small military force for protection supplemented with mechs and security drones. Average in every way really. Completely unremarkable… until the disappearance."

"Any thoughts on what we might run into there?"

"A lot of empty buildings and one giant mystery," she concluded.

"I'd like to know more about the Lazarus Project from the person in charge," Shepard said, jumping to a new topic.

"I wasn't in charge," she admitted. "The Illusive Man was. If I was running the show, we'd have done a few things differently."

"What would you have changed?"

"To start, I would have implanted you with some type of control chip, but the Illusive Man wouldn't allow it. He was afraid it might affect your personality; alter your character somehow. He wouldn't let us do anything that would limit your potential in any way." While what she said was true, Miranda only disclosed her opinion to elicit a reaction from Shepard, to better understand her.

Shepard's expression turned disapproving. "Can't say I like the idea of being brought back to life with a control chip in my brain."

"The Illusive Man is taking an incredible risk with you," Miranda retorted, defending her position. "I just hope his gamble pays off."

Shepard's arms folded. "Why don't you tell me a little about yourself, since you seem to know so much about me."

"Worried about my qualifications, Commander? I can crush a mech with my biotics or shoot its head off at a hundred yards. Take your pick." She was beginning to dislike this woman's inquisitiveness.

"I was trying to get to know you as a human being."

"I'm not looking for a friend Shepard" The Commander was put out by her bluntness, but she didn't care. "Stay focused on the mission."

In a last ditch effort to get Miranda to open up, Shepard asked, "Did you and Jacob serve together in the Alliance?"

"No. The Illusive Man recognized my potential and recruited me at a young age."

Shepard gave her a quizzical look. "How old were you?"

"Old enough to know this is what I wanted."

Commander Shepard untied her arms and started walking away from her. "Alright, it's obvious you're not interested in talking."

"We've got an assignment. We can talk about it, or we can do it." She went back to her typing.

* * *

Jacob heard Miranda and Shepard's altercation in its entirety, but thought it would be impolite to look at the two cats fight. Besides, as he looked out of the station's window at the countless little spots of light beyond, he couldn't help but brood. He always thought it tragic that Lillian never knew her parents, but now, he wasn't so sure. He knew his dad, but they weren't really on speaking terms. His death may have had something to do with that. Almost ten years ago, his ship went missing. He hadn't spoken to him for three years before that. Though they probably wouldn't have ever made peace, it was the fact that they now _couldn't_ that bothered him. He was gratefully drawn out of his lapse of depression by the sound of footsteps approaching from behind. No doubt Shepard wanted to talk; he read her profile, he knew that she enjoyed conversing, even though she wasn't very social. She preferred to reserve herself for a select few people, her squadmates among them. "I'm glad the Illusive Man convinced you to join us, Commander," he said, turning on his heel to face her.

"Cerberus gave me my body back," she said. "That's worth giving them a chance. _One_ chance."

"But you're still not convinced," Jacob stated. He knew where she was coming from. The Illusive Man was… shady, at best. Jacob didn't fully trust him either, and had let that be known on several occasions. If anything, that made the Illusive Man respect him further. "Do you trust me, Commander?"

She nodded in the affirmative. "You're a good man Jacob, but you might be working for the wrong people."

"Maybe," he conceded, "but I thought the same thing when I was with the Alliance. That's why I'm here now."

"Hmm," Shepard mused. _Was that a smile I just saw?_ Jacob blinked hard, but when he opened his eyes, the Commander moved on, already asking another question. "Do you know anything about this colony we're going to?"

"It's called Freedom's Progress," he answered with a shrug. "Don't know much else. I guess we'll find out when we get there."

"So, you said you served in the Alliance?" It didn't escape his notice that she spontaneously moved to making small talk. He didn't mind, but it was interesting how she shifted the conversation, forcing him along for the ride.

"Yeah, five years in total. Stationed all over the galaxy. Even spent a couple of years as a Corsair."

This piqued Shepard's interest. "I've never heard of the Corsairs."

"It was an Alliance initiative," Jacob explained. "They hired independent starship captains and used them for missions that fell outside official jurisdiction." He crossed his arms. "Technically, we weren't part of the Alliance. If we ever got caught, the Alliance could disavow any knowledge of us. We were supposed to be free from restrictions and rules, like the Spectres, but there was still enough red tape to sink a cruiser. I finally just gave up."

"Why'd you join Cerberus though?"

"I guess I got tired of never making a difference. So much of what we did in the Alliance seemed pointless. I thought things would change after the attack on the Citadel. The old Council was dead and humanity took control of the new one. But nothing changed. Politics. Bureaucracy. Same bullshit, different leaders. Cerberus is different. When colonies go missing, we don't commission a team to write a report to figure what the hell to do about it. We just go and find out." He hoped he didn't come off as too proud or patriotic. Or foolish.

"That's all for now, Jacob. See you on the shuttle."

"Yes ma'am," he said, and moved to get his gear in check.


	4. Freedom's Progress

_Author's note. This is listed as humor, so I'll try to put more of that in. Anyway, Lillian Shepard, Miranda, and Jax are headed toward Freedom's Progress. By the way, the hardest part about writing these things is the dialogue where the player can do some investigating. If you write it down like it appears on-screen, it really looks ridiculous, you kind of have to weave each question in so it makes sense. You'll find out later. By the way, I do not own the rights Mass Effect 2, Mass Effect 2 Zaeed: The Price of Revenge, Mass Effect 2 Kasumi: Stolen Memories, Mass Effect 2 Arrival, Mass Effect 2 Project Firewalker, Mass Effect 2 Project Overlord, or Mass Effect 2 Normandy Crash Site. That everything? I have to mention the weapon and armor packs too? Screw that._

* * *

_The first time it was reported that our friends were being butchered there was a cry of horror. Then a hundred were butchered. But when a thousand were butchered and there was no end to the butchery, a blanket of silence spread. When evil-doing comes like falling rain, nobody calls out "stop!"__ When crimes begin to pile up they become invisible. When sufferings become unendurable the cries are no longer heard. The cries, too, fall like rain in summer._ – Bertolt Brecht

* * *

A few hours after her talk with the Illusive Man, Lillian, Miranda, and Jacob found themselves on a shuttle speeding to Freedom's Progress. In the small, cramped space, there was little to do besides converse and make speculations about the mission. The first two hours of the journey was filled by Jacob detailing her about various weapon and armor specs. Before they departed, he helped her choose the weapon set that would complement her skills most efficiently.

The first thing Shepard requisitioned was a sniper rifle. That was her bread and butter; without one on hand, she'd almost feel naked. She was given an M-92 Mantis, apparently renowned for its destructive power; it used an extremely high powered rail to propel a round to more than thirty times the speed of sound. The downside to its power was the enormous amount of heat it generated; one shot, and the heat sink would have to be ejected. Miranda added that it could sometimes bypass an opponent's kinetic barriers entirely if they were drained enough.

The next weapon in her arsenal was a submachine gun, recommended she use by Miranda. Before now, SMGs were rarely used due to lack of necessity. Now, as kinetic barriers were becoming more and more common, people needed a compact weapon that could take down an opponent's shields quickly. This Elkoss Combine innovation, the M-4 Shuriken Machine Pistol, fired in short, three round bursts, and is supposed to be unmatched in close quarters only by a shotgun.

Speaking of shotguns, Jacob showed Lillian his little beauty; a Lieberschaft 2180, more commonly known as the M-22 Eviscerator. In Jacob's own words, "It's banned in most market economies for being too badass." He explained that it fired serrated metal wedges in tight groups, allowing for more deadly shots than a traditional scattergun, even at longer ranges. "I don't see why it's illegal," Shepard commented. "A dead guy's not going to complain that he got killed by jagged bullets." Jacob thrust up his hand in approval.

All three of them packed an M-3 Predator heavy pistol, just because it's unwise to go without a sidearm. It was a pretty basic gun, but its shot capacity and minimal recoil made it a self-defense favorite.

As far as armor was concerned, Lillian had only one query. While Jacob was suited with his slightly bulky suit and Shepard in her tight fitting Phantom armor, Miranda didn't seem to be wearing any sort of protection. The operative was dressed only in her rather… prominent jumpsuit. Not only that, but she was wearing boots with heels. _Heels! How can anyone fight dressed like that?_ When she asked, Miranda simply stated that the kinetic barrier emitters built into her suit provided the only defense she'd need. If they ever fell ("Which they won't," said Miranda), she could just use her biotics to supplement them until they recharged. She made no comment on her choice of footwear. _It's probably a good thing John isn't here; he'd probably be too busy looking at Miranda's ass to do any investigating, let alone fight. Maybe that's the reason behind the look. Heh. Behind._ Shepard cracked a smile; she could be so immature at times.

Miranda broke the silence that had been sustained for the past five minutes as she deactivated her omni-tool. "We should be there shortly, Shepard. The Illusive Man put us under your command. Do you have any orders?"

"Are you sure you'll be comfortable following my orders?" She couldn't have any dissenters in her unit.

Surprisingly, it was Jacob who answered. "We didn't bring you back from the dead just to second-guess you, Commander. If the Illusive Man says you're in charge, you're in charge."

_That was better than nothing, I suppose._ It would've been nicer if he didn't say yes "because we have to." "What did you find at the other colonies?" Shepard inquired.

"Nothing," answered Jacob. "No signs of attack, no corpses. Not even a trace of unusual genetic material to give us a clue. They just… disappear. And we've got no target to go after."

"So what makes you think _this_ investigation will turn up anything new?"

"At the other colonies, official investigators got there first. Sometimes looters and salvage teams as well. We're hoping to be the first ones there this time. Maybe find clues before somebody else disturbs the scene."

"We're here, Shepard," Miranda said as a light in the shuttle began to blink.

"All right, listen up," Shepard announced as her team stirred to get ready. "Our first priority is to look for survivors."

"It's unlikely we'll find any, Commander," Miranda declared as she retrieved her firearms from under her seat. "No one was left at the other colonies. They were completely deserted."

"Be nice to find somebody though," Jacob mumbled. "Anything's better than a ghost town."

Shepard heard the whine of the shuttle's engines turn off as its sliding door opened. A colony like the one she saw before her should be alive and boisterous even at this late hour, but here, not a voice could be heard and not a light could be seen. Thank God the moon was so big and bright. The three filed out of the shuttle and brought out their omni-tools, marking the LZ like they had countless times before.

Before them lay a vista of flat, one story buildings, so they must be in a residential area. The houses were arranged quite sporadically; each was at a different altitude than the one before it, joined via an intricate network of walkways and stairs. Almost each structure had a small pad for sky cars to land; they were on one now.

Directly in front of them was a rather large shanty, its holographic access panel green. Shepard opened the door, and automatic lights switched on, swathing the place with a bright, fluorescent glow. It looked like a mess hall; there were an abundance of tables and restrooms, but no living quarters. A radio, blaring an unknown station, could be heard from the next dining area. "Looks like everyone just got up and left right in the middle of dinner." Shepard silently agreed with Jacob's assessment, noting the half-eaten food and spilled drinks.

As they moved through the building, Shepard could make out the words on the radio. Lillian recognized the host, a batarian named Lush Rimbaugh, from her tour in the Skyllian Verge. He was unpopular among the batarians and vorcha who listened to his show, as he publicly condemned the various merc groups that hired them in high numbers, like the Blue Suns and the Blood Pack. He was under the Alliance's protection, and thus had a very positive attitude toward humans, an uncommon trait in batarians. Something he said grabbed Lillian's attention.

"It's time our favorite human made a comeback in the news. You haven't heard his name for some time now, my faithful listeners, but I doubt you have forgotten the hero of the Citadel, Alliance officer John H. Shepard."

_What?_ Shepard stopped walking and held her hand out for her squadmates to wait.

"The reason you haven't heard about him for a while is because he was stationed on Earth for the past few months, acting as an instructor in the ICT Academy, where he had received his N7 designation only years before. In an interview with ANN, he expressed the reason for his doing so, saying he wanted 'to train the next generation of soldiers to fight the real threat'. But now, reports Fleet Admiral Steven Hackett, he has… disappeared. That's right, he's just up and gone. Now no one knows where he is. One salarian eyewitness reported seeing him on Noveria, boarding a vessel with strange markings. Coming up, an exclusive interview with that eyewitness, who has asked that his name and face be kept anonymous."

"Noveria? Isn't that in the Horsehead Nebula?" Shepard asked, directing the question to Miranda and Jacob. "That's in the Terminus Systems! What's John doing around here?" She stared at the two Cerberus operatives expectantly. Jacob just gave a shrug.

"He's still a Spectre. Maybe he's on Council business," Miranda speculated. "Cerberus is well informed, but even we don't have access to Spectre files."

"Could he be looking for me?" Shepard asked. "The Illusive Man said something about trying to recruit him without success."

"It's possible," answered Miranda, "though it's unlikely he'll find where we are. Lazarus Station's location was highly classified, as is the location of the station we just left."

"Hate to interrupt," Jacob interrupted, "but we still have a mission to do. I suggest we hold off our conjectures till we're done."

"Agreed," said the two women in unison.

The three of them descended down some stairs to find themselves in a wide, open area. All of the connecting buildings' access panels were red, marking them as inaccessible.

"Strange," said Miranda. "No bodies, no structural damage, no signs of battle."

Directly across from them was a set of huge double doors. The squad moved to them and initiated the opening process. Slowly, mechanisms within the doors pulled them to the side, revealing a grand seascape of new buildings. They found themselves on a walkway that winded in between buildings, like an elevated street. About forty feet below them was what looked like a loading dock, evidenced by the mounds of crates in front of its wide entrance.

Lillian's analysis of her surroundings was interrupted by Jacob. "You hear that?" Shepard trained her ears, and could indeed hear something. It was similar to the mechanical pitter-patter of a mech's feet, only it seemed to be coming closer a lot faster than it should. "Sounds like FENRIS mechs," he said as he detached the shotgun from the small of his back.

No sooner did Miranda and Shepard ready their weapons than four dog-like machines came sprinting at them from behind a building. But before Shepard could even take a shot, she was drawn into cover from hostile fire coming from across the way. Her shields took a couple of hits, but that's what it was there for. Shepard could hear the report of Jacob's gun as he dealt with the dogs. The Commander engaged her suit's tactical cloak, and instantly vanished from sight with a shimmer. The most one could see of her would be a slight distortion in the air where the light refracted around her body. Unfortunately, the cloak dissipated a second after she started firing at the mechs across from them. _That's bullshit; the effect goes away when I fire? Why? Where's the logical explanation for that? At least this SMG is performing up to par._ It's true; Shepard managed to fell three hostiles with an equal amount of bursts from her gun, rating its efficiency an A plus. It didn't take long for the rest of the robotic menaces to fall as the team's combined biotic and tech skills were more than adequate to rip through their numbers; Jacob would toss them around a bit while Shepard and Miranda would overload their systems via a few taps on their omni-tools.

"That's strange, security systems were disabled at the other colonies," Miranda stated.

"Those mechs shouldn't have been hostile." Jacob's voice was laced with concern. "They should have recognized us as human."

"Someone reprogrammed them to attack on sight," she ascertained. "We're not alone here."

As the three humans made their way through the ghost town, going through buildings, down stairs, and around corners, they began to notice signs of tampering; closets were searched, their contents drawn out onto floor, strange orange dots marked several doorways along the path they followed, and some computers revealed that someone recently accessed them. _Could John have found his way here? Maybe he's also investigating these disappearances._ That question was answered in the negative when the trio entered a house to find eight quarians huddled around a table.

* * *

Tali'Zorah nar Rayya, now Tali'Zorah vas Neema, was welcomed back into the quarian flotilla as a hero, not only due to fact that she helped save the galaxy, but because of the data on the geth she brought back from her pilgrimage. Admiral Han'Garrel himself oversaw her transfer from the Rayya when she officially joined the crew of the Neema, completing her rite of passage and becoming an adult quarian. She owed all she was, all she will ever be to John and Lily Shepard. She still remembered the day the _Normandy_ was attacked, the day she escaped from the jaws of hell and her Commander didn't. Tali wept for Lily for weeks on end, a problem for someone who has to wear a helmet to survive. But the quarians have always been a people for whom loss tends to find, and life must go on.

Tali, as a veritable expert on the geth, was sent on an important research mission for the Admiralty Board. But right now, another task was taking precedence. That is why she, along with seven others, was on this deserted human colony. When they landed, they didn't expect any automated resistance, so the drones and security mechs came as an unpleasant surprise. _It's a miracle no one has gotten hurt yet._ Only she and Prazza had any sort of kinetic barriers. Quarians, due to their compromised immune systems, risk death from so much as a suit puncture, let alone a gunshot wound. She sincerely hoped that they could just grab who they were here for and get back to their original mission. However, once they found out they weren't alone on this colony, the group holed up inside a building to formulate a plan.

Several minutes ago, the octuplet of quarians heard gunshots in the distance. When they relayed this to their ship, the stand-in captain reported that they had spotted an unidentified vessel land near their location. "And you didn't think it would be a good idea to tell me about it?" Tali demanded, nearly screaming into her suit's mic. Her voice would sound distorted and electronic due to her suit's sound filtration system.

_"I am sorry, Captain Zorah, but it was only a shuttle. We thought it was Alliance or something."_

_Bosh'tet,_ Tali thought. It was an ancient quarian insult that didn't really translate into galactic. "I'll let it slide this once, Ran. Don't let it happen again."

_"Understood, Captain. Ran'Toler out."_

"What are we going to do, Captain Zorah?" asked Prazza, her chief Lieutenant.

"I'll handle it, Prazza. Don't worry."

Just as soon as he nodded in acknowledgement, the door to their hideout opened and in came three humans, decked out in Cerberus colors, guns out. "Stop right there!" Prazza yelled, leveling his rifle toward their leader. The rest of the unit followed suit.

"Prazza, you said you'd let me handle this!"

"Tali?" the center figure asked at hearing the sound of her voice. The human's helmet folded away, revealing a face she instantly recognized. _No, it can't be…_

"Shepard?" Tali yelped in incredulity.

"I'm not taking any chances with Cerberus Operatives!" Prazza yelled, the voice modulator on his helmet blinking brighter as his voice got louder.

"Put those weapons down!" She ordered, waving her hand at them. All but Prazza complied. Turning back to her old friend, "Shepard, is that… you're alive?"

"Remember that geth data I gave you, Tali?" Shepard asked. When the Commander spoke, the two to her sides lowered their weapons. "Did it help you complete your Pilgrimage?"

"Yes, it did," Tali replied, almost in a whisper. "Prazza, weapons down! This is definitely Commander Shepard."

"Why is your old Commander working for Cerberus?" he asked, finally holstering his gun.

"I don't know. Maybe we should ask." Tali turned toward Shepard promptly.

"I nearly died, Tali. Cerberus spent two years rebuilding me. They want me to investigate attacks on human colonies."

"A likely story," Prazza rebutted. "No organization would commit so many resources to bring back _one_ soldier."

"You haven't seen her in action Prazza," said Tali, the awe in her voice evident. "Trust me, it was money well spent. Perhaps we can work together, Lily. We're here looking for a young quarian named Veetor. He was here on Pilgrimage."

"Isn't that a little strange?" asked Shepard with a raise of her brow. Tali remembered that gesture indicated curiosity. "A quarian visiting a remote human colony?"

"Quarians can choose where they go on Pilgrimage," she clarified. "Veetor liked the idea of helping a small settlement. He was always… _nervous_ in crowds."

Prazza gave a humph at that statement. "She means he was unstable. Combine that with damage to his suit's CO2 scrubbers and an infection from an open air exposure, and he's likely delirious."

Tali glared at Prazza for a moment before turning back to Lily. "When he saw us landing, he hid in a warehouse on the far side of town. We suspect he also programmed the mechs to attack anything that moved."

"Veetor's the only one who can tell us what happened here. We should work together to find him."

"Good idea, Shepard," Tali agreed. "You'll need two teams to get past the drones anyway."

Prazza was fuming inside his helmet. "Now we're working for Cerberus?" he demanded.

"No Prazza, you're working for me. If you can't follow orders, go wait on the ship."

Prazza crossed his arms in dissent, put stayed where he was. She decided to take it as reluctant acceptance.

"Your people really don't like Cerberus," the Commander observed. "What did I miss?"

Prazza responded. "They killed our people, infiltrated our flotilla, and tried to blow up one of our ships."

Now the raven haired woman on Shepard's right started to speak. "That's not how I'd have explained it, exactly. It was nothing personal."

"We can argue over who killed who later," said the darker skinned man. "Right now, we've got a job to do."

"Agreed," said Tali. "We work together to get to Veetor."

"Make sure to keep in radio contact," ordered Shepard.

"Will do. Good luck, Shepard. Whatever happens… it's good to have you back."

* * *

That was the hardest fight Lillian had been in for a long time. Over two years, in fact. Getting to the warehouse was simple enough; only a few squadrons of drones and mechs hindered their progress. During those few firefights, she got to test out all of her weapons, including the nanosword, as it was called. It cut through mechs like butter. But things got complicated once she reached the door of the warehouse; apparently, Prazza tried to whisk Veetor away before they got there, and his whole team ended up getting eviscerated by an YMIR heavy mech, one of those big SOBs she saw back on Lazarus Station. It took a lot of effort (and gunfire), but they finally brought the damn thing down. As a parting gift, it exploded, leaving poor Jacob a little worse for wear. It's _always_ the black guy. But when Jacob saw the two injured quarians, he quit his complaining real quickly.

One of them had a hole in her gut that was gushing red blood. Tali, who was physically fine, was desperately trying to seal it using medi-gel with limited success. The other quarian lost one of his three-fingered hands, and was gripping the stump with the other. Shepard had never seen a male quarian before today, and was surprised to see that they had only two toes to each foot as opposed to the three females had. Aside from the odd number of phalanges and their extremely bowed legs, quarian physiques largely resembled those of humans. Shepard also heard tell that, under their suits, their faces and "parts" even _looked_ human. _If only their helmets weren't so opaque._

"Shepard," Tali advised, "this is your chance to go find Veetor while I tend to the wounded. He's probably somewhere in the back of the loading bay."

Lillian was soon standing in front of a small security station. _This is the only building in this place; Veetor must be here._ She opened the door and found herself in a dark room, the only light coming from several orange security consoles in the back. In front of them sat a male quarian, but he seemed to be suffering from a mild case of insanity.

"Monsters coming back," he muttered to himself, seemingly oblivious to the three humans who walked up behind him. "Mechs will protect. Safe from swarms. Have to hide. No monsters. No swarms. No-no-no-no-no."

"Veetor?" asked Shepard.

"No Veetor. Not here. Swarms can't find. Monsters coming. Have to hide."

_Does this guy even know we're here?_ "Hey!" Shepard yelled. "I'm talking to you!"

Miranda sighed out of frustration. "Great. We come all this way, and our only witness is a babbling idiot."

Veetor continued with his ramblings. "Swarms coming. Storm coming. Storm of swarms. Mechs will protect. Have to hide. Have to hide."

_I know how to get his attention._ Shepard yanked her pistol from her side and fired a round that landed next to Veetor, causing him to jump to his feet. This came at the sacrifice of one of the security monitors.

Veetor seemed confused as he looked over Shepard's squad. "You're… not one of them. You're human. They… they didn't find you?"

"Who didn't find us?" Miranda asked.

"The… the monsters!" he said it as if incredulous they didn't know what he was talking about. "The swarms! They took everyone!"

"We're not survivors Veetor," Lillian tried to convey. "We just got here."

"You don't know," he said. "You didn't see. But I see everything." With that, he turned to the monitors and began playing security videos. The multiple screens appeared to formulate a single image, only the gaps between the monitors broke up the homogeneity.

"Security footage," Miranda observed. "He must've pieced it together manually."

The video they saw wasn't of the highest quality, but they could still see several bipedal creatures moving amid swarms of bugs. They seemed to be pushing some sort of pods around. "What the hell is that?" Jacob exclaimed, pointing to one of the creatures.

"My God…" said Miranda, her eyes wide. "I think that's a Collector!" The screen froze.

_The name sounds familiar…_ "Is that some kind of alien?"

Jacob moved in to explain. "They're a species from somewhere beyond the Omega 4 relay. Only a few people have ever seen one in person."

Miranda continued. "They usually work through intermediaries, like slavers or hired mercenaries. If they're involved with the Reapers somehow, it could explain what happened to the colonies."

Jacob further elaborated. "The Collectors have advanced technology. They could have a weapon that disables an entire settlement at once."

Veetor spoke up, addressing the weapon issue. "The seeker swarms. No one can hide. The seekers find you. Freeze you. Then the monsters take you away."

"Then why didn't the Collectors take you?" Shepard demanded.

"Swarms didn't find me. Monsters didn't know I was here."

"The Collectors aren't known for being careless," Jacob declared. "Maybe his enviro-suit kept him from showing up on their sensors."

"_Or_ they were using technology specifically designed to detect humans," suggested Miranda. "Only human colonies have been hit."

Lillian turned to the two operatives. "I want to know more about the Collectors. Get an idea what the hell they are."

"Nobody knows much." Jacob shrugged his shoulders. "They're so rare a lot of people don't even believe they exist."

_They made the same mistake with the Reapers._

"More importantly, why are they abducting human colonists?" Miranda queried, not really expecting a reply. "What are they after?"

"Maybe the Illusive Man can figure it all out," Jacob guessed.

Shepard addressed Veetor next. "Tell me more about these swarms."

"It's how they find you. Seeker clouds. Machines like tiny insects. They go everywhere. They find you. Then they sting you. _Freeze_ you."

"Sounds like miniature probes, maybe," conjectured Miranda. "Find victims, then immobilize them with a stasis field or nerve toxin."

_Goddamn. How do you defend against _that_?_ "What happened next, Veetor?"

"The monsters took the people onto the ship, and then they left. The ship flew away. But they'll be back for me! No one escapes!"

Jacob chimed in. "I think that's all we're getting out of him, Commander."

Shepard pinched the bridge of her nose with frustration. "We finally find a witness, and he's so off his nut he can't even tell us what we saw."

"I studied them. The monsters. The swarms," Veetor said, as if trying to defend himself. "I recorded them with my omni-tool." Veetor brought up his omni-tool's holographic display. "Lots of readings. Electromagnetic. Dark energy."

"We need to get this data to the Illusive Man," Miranda stipulated. "Grab the quarian and call the shuttle to come pick us up."

"What?" screamed Tali, whom none heard enter. "Veetor is injured! He needs treatment, not an interrogation!"

"We won't hurt him," assured Jacob. "We just need to see if he knows anything else. He'll be returned unharmed."

"Your people tried to betray us once already," Miranda sneered. "If we give him to you, we'll never get the intel we need."

"Prazza was an idiot, and he and his men paid for it. You're welcome to take Veetor's omni-tool data, put please, just let me take him."

"You don't have to take Veetor and go, Tali," Shepard offered. "We could work together. Just like old times."

"I want to, but I can't. I've got a mission of my own. It's too important for me to abandon, even for you. When it's over, and I'm still alive, we'll see what happens." Tali shifted her foot as she finished, like she was nervous.

"That sounds dangerous. What are you doing?"

"I don't think Cerberus needs to hear about it," she replied, indicating the two operatives behind Shepard. "But it's in geth space. That should tell you how important it is."

Shepard still needed to make a choice; take Veetor and jeopardize her friendship with Tali, or take his omni-tool data and keep her friendship intact. _Oh, the decisions._ Even Shepard's thoughts were cynical. Something she and her brother had in common. "Veetor's traumatized, and he needs medical care," she said, more to Ms. Lawson than anyone else. "Tali will give us the omni-tool data and take him to the flotilla. It's probably better than a testimony anyway."

She could tell Miranda disagreed by the way her brows tightened around her eyes, but she complied regardless. "Understood, Commander."

"Thank you, Shepard. I'm glad you're still the one giving the orders." Tali moved closer to Lillian and pulled her into a quick embrace. "Good luck out there. If I find anything that can help you, I'll let you know."

After a curt goodbye, Shepard turned her head toward Jacob and gave him a slight nod. "We're ready for pickup," he relayed.

Miranda and Jacob filed out, but Shepard stayed for a few moments longer. Something on the top right monitor caught her attention; one of the Collectors looked different than the rest. While most were a unanimous drab, sort of brownish color, this one was streaked with glowing red and orange lines, like it was on fire. Conjectures on why that might be reeled through Lillian's mind as she headed to the evac point.

* * *

"Why am I here?"

The Illusive Man sighed, the smoke stocked in his lungs creating a shroud that covered his face momentarily before dissipating. "Because your friend insisted I try to convince you to join us."

"My previous rejection didn't hit close enough to home?" the armored holographic figure in front of him asked.

The Illusive Man, slightly baring his teeth, replied, "I'm willing to look past that."

"You're awful forgiving," he said in a mocking tone.

"Don't mistake my forgiveness for frailty," the Illusive Man warned. "But I won't refuse help from someone who can give me such a large advantage."

"Give me one reason I shouldn't just walk out of this room," the figure challenged.

"Besides the fact that working with Cerberus would ensure the survival not just of humanity, but all sapient life in the galaxy?" The Illusive Man smiled at the irony that _this_ man needed further reason. He tapped a few buttons, and live security footage from one of the station's cameras appeared on a holographic panel in front of him. He saw the man's eyes widen as he identified one of the people on the vid.

"If this is some kind of trick…"

"It isn't. Will you reconsider?"

The man was deep in thought, his blue eyes glazed over. "I'll let you know. _After_ I speak with her."

The Illusive Man nodded, and terminated the connection.

* * *

Lillian got an odd feeling the second time she boarded the Minuteman Station. She couldn't really tell what it was. _It's probably just jitters. After all, I'm about to tell the creepiest guy in the galaxy that Collectors are responsible for the attacks on humanity._ But this didn't feel like butterflies in her stomach, she'd experienced _that_ enough times in her middle school plays. This feeling wasn't foreboding, nor was it particularly pleasant. _It's almost…_ she racked her brain to find the word, _familiar._

She was now in the comm room where she first spoke with the ever illusive Illusive Man. As the scanner did its job, she wondered if he'd be angry, relieved, or remain unsettlingly indifferent at the news. The screen in front of her activated, and Shepard could see the Illusive Man's glowing eyes fixed on her unrelentingly.

"Shepard," he began, "Good work on Freedom's Progress. The quarians forwarded their findings from Veetor's debriefing. No new data, but it's a surprising olive branch, given our history."

_I'd still like to know what that "history" is._ Shepard decided to hold off on that question for a more appropriate time. _Maybe I'll ask Miranda, though I think her story will be very one-sided._

The Illusive Man continued. "You and I have different methods, but I can't argue with your results."

"You ever think about playing nice once in a while?"

"Diplomacy is great when it works, but difficult when everyone already perceives you as a threat. But more importantly, you confirmed the Collectors are behind the abductions."

Lillian crossed her arms and gave him what she hoped was a mistrustful look. "Why do I get the feeling you knew about them already?"

"I had my suspicions," he admitted, "but I needed proof. The Collectors are enigmatic at best. They periodically travel to the Terminus Systems, looking to gather seemingly unimportant items or specimens, usually in exchange for their technology. When their transactions are complete, they disappear as quickly as they arrived; back beyond the unmapped Omega 4 relay. Until now, we've had no evidence of direct aggression by the Collectors."

"What are the Collectors getting from these deals?"

"The Collectors aren't very forthcoming about their motives. Generally, they seek out species with rare genetic mutations or abnormalities. They pay slavers and merc groups exorbitant sums to obtain these specimens."

"Any ideas why they've shifted their focus to humans?" Shepard asked with a hand gesture.

"If they're agents for the Reapers, it could be any number of reasons. Obviously, humanity played a huge role in Sovereign's destruction. That might've been enough to draw their attention." The Illusive Man knitted his brows, distressed. "What really concerns me is why they bother _abducting_ the colonists. Once the humans are paralyzed, why not just kill them?"

"Why is the Omega 4 relay unmapped? What do we know about it?"

"Only that no ship passing through it has ever returned. Our best guess is that the relay reacts differently to Collector vessels, allowing them safe passage. If they can manipulate relays, that's just further evidence of the connection with the Reapers."

Shepard's hands fell to her sides. "You're holding something back," she accused. "How do you know the Reapers are involved?"

"The patterns are there, buried in the data. The Council and the Alliance want to believe the Reaper threat died with Sovereign. You and I know better. I won't wait until the Reapers are on the march. _We_ need to take the fight to _them_."

_This guy's either serious, or a really convincing demagogue._ "If this is a war, I'll need an army. Or a really good team."

"I've already compiled a list of soldiers, scientists, and mercenaries. You'll get dossiers on the best of them. Finding them and convincing them to work with you could be challenging, but you're a natural leader. I'll continue to track the Collectors. When they make their next appearance, I'll notify you and your team. Be ready."

Shepard scowled. "Keep your list." She dismissed it with a wave. "I want people I trust – the ones who helped me stop Saren and the geth."

"That was two years ago Commander. Most of them have moved on… or their allegiances have changed."

"What about Tali? She already helped us on Freedom's Progress."

"That was… unexpected," came the Illusive Man's response. "I need more intel before I'll commit to that."

_Well, she also said she was on an important mission, so she's out._ "Where's Garrus Vakarian?"

"The turian disappeared a few months after you were declared dead. Even we haven't been able to locate him."

_Strange, where would he have gone? I remember him saying something about Spectre training, but that would mean he's on the Citadel. _"How about Liara T'Soni?"

"The asari's on Illium. My sources say that she's working for the Shadow Broker. If so, she can't be trusted."

_Liara would never work for the Shadow Broker. Either he's lying or his intel is way off._ "What about Kaidan Alenko?" Her heart skipped a beat when she spoke the name.

"He's still with the Alliance. Promoted, I believe. His file is surprisingly well classified."

_He's still Alliance, that's good._ A lump formed in her throat as she asked the next question. "John Shepard?"

"I told you; we tried going down that road once. I'll let you be the judge of how that turned out."

Lillian didn't really want to know what happened between them. _Oh crap, I almost forgot._ "Where's Urdnot Wrex?"

"He returned to Tuchanka and hasn't gone off-world in over a year. He's trying to unite the krogan clans."

Shepard distastefully remembered the story Wrex told her about years long ago when he tried to do the same. His father Jarrod, Warlord in clan Urdnot, was angry that he'd rather focus on breeding then exacting revenge on the turians and salarians. He invited Wrex to a Crush, a meeting on neutral territory, in a sacred burial ground. Once there, Jarrod staged an ambush, and Wrex won the ensuing fight when he plunged his dagger into his father's chest.

"Okay, I get it. They're not available. But I'm still a Spectre. Maybe I can get the Council to help us out." _Oh please, take your fucking time! Smoke your cigarette!_

The Illusive Man exhaled, spewing smoke. Shepard could almost smell it. "If you think you can convince them, by all means. Just remember – you've been gone a long time. Things have changed."

"Alright. You worry about the Collectors, I'll make sure my team's ready."

"Good. Two things before you go. First, head to Omega and find Mordin Solus. He's a brilliant salarian scientist. Our intelligence suggests he may know how to counteract the Collectors' paralyzing seeker swarms."

"Sounds good," agreed Shepard. "And what else?"

"I've found a pilot you might like. I hear he's one of the best. Someone you can trust." The Illusive man ended the connection.

Shepard turned to see the silhouette of a man limping towards her. He wore a cap with SR2 printed on the front. "Hey, Commander. Just like old times, huh?"

* * *

"I can't believe it's you, Joker," Shepard expressed as her old pilot led her down hallway after hallway.

"Look who's talking," he said. "I saw you get spaced."

"I got lucky," Shepard responded, smiling, "with a lot of strings attached. How'd you get here?"

"It all fell apart without you and your brother, Commander. Everything you guys stirred up, the Council just wanted it gone. Team was broken up, records sealed, and I was grounded." He looked a little angry now. "The Alliance took away the only thing that mattered to me. Hell yeah I joined Cerberus."

"You really trust the Illusive Man?" asked Shepard, surprised he hadn't made any snarky comments yet.

"Well, I don't trust anyone who makes more than I do." _There it is._ "But they aren't all bad. Saved your life, let me fly – and there's this."

He was looking out of a window into a large hangar. In the dim light, Lillian could barely make out the outline of a ship's hull. Then, lights turned on, and slowly revealed the ship in all its splendor. _Someone's got a flair for the dramatic._ However, her stomach did somersaults when she realized… _It's the Normandy!_ Indeed, it looked exactly like her old ship, except that it was nearly twice the length and flew Cerberus colors. The letters SR2 were painted on one of the wings in big print. "It's good to be home, huh, Commander?"

"I guess we'll have to give her a name," Lillian commented when seeing one had not yet been given.

"How about _The Shepherd's Ghost?_"

Lillian, utterly surprised, turned around to see a hulking figure donning black N7 armor standing behind her. His blue eyes twinkled, tears streaming all the way down to his big, buffoonish grin. "John?" she yelled.

* * *

Gotta love cliffhangers. Yes, I did say Lush Rimbaugh, and yes, Jacob is black. It's just an observation! Plus, I refuse to believe Mass Effect racism revolves solely around species. I bet there are still places (Alabama) that discriminate based on skin color. Besides, blue asari don't like purple asari. It's just a fact. But I'm not racist. Or asari. Or female. I could go on and on.

Here, I'll just get it out in the open, I'm half Georgian (that's basically Russian), quarter Spaniard, and quarter Egyptian. My parents are Jews, therefore I am a Jew. Yes, I have a big nose curly hair, and a beard. And yes, I'm short. Laugh it up.


	5. All Aboard the Normandy!

Author's note: Forgot to mention Mass Effect 2: Lair of the Shadow Broker last time. My assistant (who lives in a dark corner in my head) dropped the ball on this one. But yeah, Bioware and EA own the rights to everything Mass Effect, the moon, and half of Toronto. In this installment, we get an idea of how each Shepard relates to the various crew members. I changed up some of the dialogue, but a lot of it remains just like it is in game. This part's told from many different perspectives, so you get to hear plenty of thoughts. Hooray!

* * *

_Prepare ship – for ludicrous speed!_ – Colonel Sandurz, Spaceballs

* * *

When John heard about the destruction of the _Normandy_, no words could even begin to express the sentiment he felt. He grieved, as one would expect after losing a loved one. But the emotion that came next arrived as a surprise, even to him; he was angry: angry at the Council for sending her on that needless mission, angry at the Alliance for taking her loss in stride, and angry at Alenko. John knew Kaidan and Lily shared feelings for each other. He never had a problem with that. But is it not a man's place, no, his duty, to be at his woman's side in circumstances like that? John would have given his life in a heartbeat to save her, just as he knew she would have done for him. But Kaidan just gave him some wish-washy excuse, saying that Lily ordered him to abandon ship. _Goddamn it, a court martial on grounds of insubordination would be worse than leaving your love for dead? Even Joker had enough balls to at least try to save her, and he can't even walk!_

John's sorrow and ire were increased twofold when, two years ago, the Illusive Man sent an intermediary to tell him that they had recovered his sister, and were trying to resurrect her. When the Illusive Man's envoy refused to send John the body, an inexplicable rage came over him. He ripped the messenger to shreds with his biotics, which would have been fine if it hadn't been in the Citadel Presidium. Citadel Security couldn't arrest him for the murder because he was a Spectre, but they did place a permanent ban on him from the Presidium, which could be lifted only if he were on a mission that required diplomatic involvement. Now, on Minuteman Station, when the Illusive Man showed him the security footage of those three Cerberus operatives walking down the hall, he was… shocked, to say the least, to count Lily among them. He didn't think it was real, until he found her in front of him.

"John?" she yelled as she charged him with a head of steam, almost knocking him off his feet as she pulled him into a long hug. "Is it really you?" she asked, her head buried in his right shoulder (he was almost a full head taller than her).

"I think I'm the one who oughta be asking that question," he said. He gently pushed her to arm's length after an acceptable amount of time so they could talk. "How are you… well, alive?"

Lily regained her composure in an instant. "Cerberus spent the last two years rebuilding me, John, almost from scratch. They brought me back to investigate these disappearances of human colonies." She wiped whatever tears streaked her face. "What about you?" she demanded. "What are you doing here? The Illusive Man said he tried to get your championship, but that you refused. Harshly."

"You can thank Joker for that. My being here, I mean. He contacted me about a week ago. We became disconnected after you died." His eyes began to tear, but he held them back. "I was surprised, to say the least, when he called. He said I _had_ to come to the Horsehead Nebula; there was something I needed to see."

Lily looked at Joker with what he guessed was a mix of gratefulness and disbelief. "Thank me later," he said to the pair. "I'll leave you two to catch up." Joker pushed himself off the railing he was leaning on and limped off to get himself ready for tomorrow's launch.

"I was even more surprised that the Illusive Man allowed it. But, come on Lily, you must be starving. We'll talk over lunch. Joker showed me where the mess is."

On the way to the lunchroom, Lillian filled her brother in on their findings, and John told her about what he had been doing since her death. For one and a half years he stuck with the Council, going on the usual high risk mission or two. After his ship got destroyed by batarian terrorists during shore leave (thankfully, no one died), the Alliance offered him a position as a combat and biotics instructor at N-School in Rio de Janeiro. That's where he was when Joker contacted him, so he took out a few weeks of leave. He boarded a transport to Noveria, where Joker picked him up and brought him to this station. He also let it be known that he had been promoted since the Battle of the Citadel.

"To what?" Lillian asked.

"Oh, only Rear Admiral." He smiled.

"Admiral Shepard. My God." _Who approved that shit?_

"Being a Spectre," John began to explain, "my allegiance belonged to the Council first, so the Alliance didn't really see fit to give me a fleet. Not like I wanted one, anyway, but it doesn't change the fact that the rank just means an extra stripe on my dress blues."

Lillian had to chuckle at that. At least the crew would address them differently now. Back on the SR-1, they were both "Commander Shepard", and it was quite confusing.

The smell of cooking food coming from somewhere down the hall brought her back to reality. Lillian didn't even realize that she hadn't eaten since she woke up. She imagined John was hungry too; as a biotic, he had to eat at least one and a half times more than she did. Regardless of need, when Lillian found herself in the cafeteria, she heaped mounds of eggs, fried chicken, and pancakes onto her tray. _At least the food's good,_ she thought. _Too bad that'll probably be the first thing to go once we're on the ship._

For a good ten minutes, the two freely gorged themselves without exchanging a word. Their ravenous dining received the attention of several Cerberus personnel; that, and the fact that they never removed their armor. When they were content to go at a slower pace, the siblings resumed their conversation.

"I never actually got an answer out of you, John." Her brother looked up at her from his tray. "Are you going to help us on this mission?"

She could tell he was weighing the option heavily as he chewed. She understood his hesitation; it wasn't every day your sister told you a pro-human terrorist organization resurrected her to use as their agent and that she wants you to join. "You really think this is the only way, Lily?" he asked.

"I don't imagine the Alliance or the Council will exactly jump at the chance to take the fight to the Reapers. They don't even want to believe they exist. They'd rather sweep the problem under the rug; which would be all well and good if the Reapers would stay there. Cerberus seems to be the only one who cares." She sensed his skepticism. "Believe me, John, if the Alliance would take the initiative, I'd leave these guys in a second. It's not like I forgot what they did on Akuze. Or on Edolus or Binthu for that matter."

"All right, if you think it's necessary, I'm in. I guess I can tell the Alliance it's Council business and the Council it's Alliance business. It'll be hell sharing the captain's cabin again, though."

"Sure you remember how to hold a gun?" Lillian teased.

"You may have been the better shot, sis, but you've been out of practice for a long time. Plus, I can rip a man apart with my mind, in case you've forgotten."

"Braggart!" She reached over and socked him one in the shoulder, if nothing else to remind him that she ranked highest in hand-to-hand combat. "We should go to the ship, get ourselves acquainted with the crew."

As John stood up to leave, Lillian heard him mutter, "There better be a bar."

* * *

"Welcome aboard the new _Normandy_, Commander, Admiral," introduced Jacob. _Welcome indeed_, thought John. He was standing in the back of the four man group; it was he, Lily, Jacob, and that one woman. His gaze drifted toward the girl for the first time. _Heeeeeelloooo!_ He would absolutely _have_ to make her acquaintance at some point. Hot babe or no, it was good to be back on the _Normandy_, but he couldn't help wondering how Lily felt. Would she feel uncomfortable being aboard a ship where she nearly lost her life?

"I've been looking over the dossiers," the woman began. "I'd strongly recommend starting by acquiring Mordin Solus, the salarian professor on Omega. We know the Collectors use some type of advanced technology to immobilize their victims. We'll need him to develop a countermeasure to protect us."

"Without that countermeasure, we'll be helpless if we ever run into the Collectors," his sister agreed. He wished he knew more about these Collectors; Lily only gave him a brief rundown. He knew they were kidnapping people and that they have some kind of locust paralyzer. Or was it locusts that paralyzed? Whatever, he'll ask her later.

Before John could ask if they should go to the Citadel first, an unfamiliar female voice filled the CIC. _"Acquiring Professor Solus seems like the most logical place to start."_

"Who the hell was that?" John blurted.

A large blue orb popped up in front of the galaxy map. It had several short white lines that ran along its "face" that expanded and contracted as the female voice spoke. _"I am the Normandy's artificial intelligence. The crew likes to refer to me as Eedie."_

"Having an AI in charge of the _Normandy_'s systems should give us an advantage," Lily determined.

_Yeah, if it doesn't betray us. Like the geth did to the quarians._ He decided to keep this comment to himself, for the time being.

_"Actually,"_ the AI began to clarify, _"I am not in control of the ship, Commander. Due to the potential dangers of a rogue AI, Cerberus has severely restricted my capabilities. During combat, I operate the electronic warfare and cyberwarfare suites. Beyond that, I cannot interface with the ship's systems. I observe and offer analysis and advice. Nothing more."_

"I'm guessing it takes more than the four of us plus Joker to fly this ship," John stated.

"The Normandy has a full crew, Admiral," the woman voiced. "They're at their stations awaiting your orders." She lifted her hand and pointed two fingers at John and Lily, confirming that this was a joint captaining.

_"Final preparations for takeoff are complete,"_ Joker relayed over the intercom. _"Just pick a destination from the galaxy map in the CIC and I'll plot a course."_

"Jacob and I should return to our posts," the woman said. "Come find us if you have any questions." With that, she turned on her heel and left for the elevator. Jacob saluted, and walked off somewhere behind them.

"I'd better get out of this armor, Lily. Catch you in a bit." His sister had removed her suit some time ago and was dressed in a comfortable looking stock uniform. John went to the elevator to go down to the armory, when he realized that it was no longer in the shuttle bay. In fact, the entrance was through a door right next to him. _Well hot damn._ He went inside to find Jacob standing by a bench, poring over a disassembled Avenger assault rifle.

"Admiral!" he saluted, and John dismissed him with an at-ease. From his brief talk with Jacob an hour ago, John could immediately tell that he'd like working with him. Jacob relayed to him all about his past service with the Alliance, why he joined, Cerberus, that kind of thing.

"There hasn't been time to really settle in and take stock," he continued. "I want to say that working with you and the Commander is a great opportunity to do something that matters. It's a privilege to serve on the _Normandy_, Admiral."

"You may change your tune if we end up like the original Normandy."

"Maybe," he replied. "As long as the Illusive Man walks his talk, and you do the same, I'll do my best to make sure we succeed. That's been the condition of my service so far. I have issues with certain actions Cerberus has taken in the past."

"What has Cerberus done to make you nervous?" It wasn't that hard to guess, but he wanted to hear Jacob's response.

"A lot. They've been called terrorists, and with good reason. Doubt you can find a more checkered past. But if the Collector threat is real, and we do something about it, Cerberus will be remembered differently." He smiled. "Or we'll all be tried and executed. Can't count on people thinking about it as hard as I have."

"I look forward to working with you, Mr. Taylor," Shepard held out his hand.

Jacob shook it with an iron grip. "Likewise, Admiral. Let me know if you need anything."

Shepard nodded, and began taking off pieces of his armor, placing them on a table next to him to arrange later. As he removed his gauntlets, he asked, "How are we doing, Jacob? What's your sense of the mission?"

"Probably the same as everyone else. I just want to figure out what the real threat actually is. Got no problem with risk. I just need a clear goal."

This guy reminded John a lot about himself. As he took off his chestplate, he realized that he'd be the only one in the ship out of a Cerberus uniform. He'd have to requisition one later. Right now, he was wearing a black and red N7 jumpsuit. "What do you think of the state of the crew?"

"Well," said Jacob, rubbing his neck. "We don't exactly have a full complement. We don't stand a chance without the right specialists on side."

Shepard silently agreed. He'd have to look over the list the Illusive Man sent him, see who he'd have to recruit. "I understand you made quite an impact after you left the Alliance."

"Miranda and I stopped a batarian plan to release a biological agent on the Citadel. That's when I first met her. It took us to the Nemean Abyss and back. Saved the Citadel, like you, but what's the saying – a good deed's like pissing yourself in dark pants? Warm feeling, but no one notices. The whole thing was hushed, like they're good at doing, but I know what I did and I'm proud of it."

He finished his story, eliciting sympathy from John. After all, Jacob's tale is pretty much what happened to him when _he_ saved the Citadel. As John put away the final piece of armor, Jacob asked, "Was there something else you needed, Admiral?"

"I'm more interested in just talking for a bit."

"Uh, I'm not big on forcing these talks, Shepard. Let's do this later." Jacob turned back to his gun.

"Catch you later Jacob!" John yelled as he left. _Now onto that raven haired beauty._ No sooner did he turn the corner than he almost ran into a female crew member. She was pretty with her ginger hair, full lips, and bottle green eyes, but she wasn't quite who he was looking for.

The woman in front of him began to speak. "Admiral, I'm Yeoman Kelly Chambers. I've been assigned as the Commander's administrative assistant, but looks like you've increased my workload." She giggled the most girly giggle he'd heard since the ninth grade. "I've already spoken to your – the Commander, and informed her about my duties, but she seemed intent on talking with Joker."

"Sorry for any trouble I've caused you, Ms. Chambers. What do you do here anyway?" He realized the harshness of the question a split second after it escaped from his mouth. Thankfully, she didn't seem to take notice.

"I'll manage your messages, and help you monitor the crew. And, may I say, it's such an honor to work under you, Admiral Shepard."

"Glad to have you on the team Ms. Chambers."

"Please, call me Kelly."

_Is she… flirting with me? Damn it!_ John put on his poker face. "Okay… Kelly." She nodded, and started for her post in the CIC. "Oh, uh, Kelly?" She turned and fixed him with those large eyes. "Do you have a moment to, uh, to talk?" _Why does this girl make me so nervous? God, I'm rubbing the back of my neck! Stop!_ He stopped.

"I always have time for you, Admiral."

There it was again, that… thing. "What are your responsibilities?"

"I'll keep you abreast of any messages or appointments you might have." _Did she have to use the word abreast?_ "If any of the crew has important business to discuss, I'll make sure you know."

"Isn't that the type of task better suited for a VI?" Virtual Intelligences, while not nearly as advanced as AIs, were often employed for such menial things. Their lack of personality and free will makes them useful for dull tasks like that.

"Yes," replied Kelly, "but being your yeoman is just my official role. Unofficially, I observe the crew. Everyone knows how risky our mission is. Many of us may not be coming back. That's a lot of pressure."

_No kidding._

"I have a degree in psychology," she continued, "I'm good at sensing when people are overly taxed."

"So you make sure the crew's mental health is sound?"

"Yes, I look for warning signs. I listen. It's not a full-time job and it's most effective when done informally."

"We're lucky to have someone with your skills, Kelly,"

"Thank you, Shepard."

John gave her a wide grin. _Why'd I just lie to her? I hate shrinks. Oh, well, too late now. Looks like I'll have to deal with analyses for the next few weeks._

"Will there be something else, Admiral?"

He snapped back to reality, realizing that he was probably staring awkwardly at Kelly for the past few seconds. "Uh, yeah. How do feel about being assigned to the _Normandy_?"

She beamed. "I was handpicked by the Illusive Man to help fight the greatest threat known to humanity. How do I feel? Honored, exhilarated, and terrified. But mostly, I feel encouraged. Under your leadership, we can't fail."

"Don't worry. We'll defeat the Collectors."

"I trust you implicitly. The moment I met you, I knew I could close my eyes, fall back, and you'd be there."

"I'd do more than catch you." _What the hell did I just say?_

"Ooh," she gave John a provocative look. "Is that a promise?"

His discomfort was now quite evident. In a haste to change the subject, he asked, "Do you have any concerns working for Cerberus? This organization has a dark reputation."

"Not at all," the Yeoman replied. "Our methods can be harsh, but Cerberus has noble objectives. We look out for human interests. Advance human technologies. Save human lives. They're good goals."

"It _sounds_ like Cerberus wants to dominate all aliens and put humankind on top."

"Cerberus looks out for humanity, but that doesn't mean we hate aliens. My sister started a dog shelter, but she loved cats too. _I_ love humanity. I also love asari, quarian, turian, salarian, hanar – that isn't in conflict with Cerberus ideals."

"That's a very positive attitude." _It's quite refreshing, actually. I think I like this girl. No, not in _that_ way!_

"What can I say," Kelly replied with a shrug. "I'm a people person."

"I'd better go," John said. He wanted to head down to the mess, see there was any beer.

"Goodbye, Admiral. By the way, you have some unread messages."

John went to the elevator and punched in Level 3: Crew Deck. In a few seconds, he was there. He must've taken a wrong turn, because he ended up in the barracks. There were only two people in it right now, and they didn't seem to notice the Admiral's blunder. They were deep in conversation.

"She's a cutie," the female crewman said. "How old?"

She and another man were sitting at a little round table, looking at a holo. "She'll be a year old next month," the father said.

"Aw, you'll miss her first birthday."

"Well, my family lives in New Canton."

"Oh…" her tone got a lot more serious. "That colony's on the edge of the frontier. Could be vulnerable to Collector attack, couldn't it?"

"Exactly. It's more important that she _have_ a first birthday. That's why I'm here."

As John quietly exited, it hit him just how big this Collector thing was. Families were being torn apart, people were getting killed. It was a humbling new perspective. His brooding vanished when he entered the mess and an odd smell greeted him. The cook was making dinner.

One crewman seated at the table started to complain. "Chef's surprise _again_? Come on, Rupert."

The chef, a middle aged man with little hair to speak of, replied. "I'm sorry, princess, filet mignon and caviar coming right up. Just let me get out my doilies."

"That'd be real nice, Mr. Gardner," the crewman replied cynically.

John decided to risk a discussion with the chef. As he walked over, the man exclaimed, "Admiral Shepard, the hero of the Citadel! You did humanity proud that day. Mess Sergeant Rupert Gardner here. How can I be of service?"

"What do you do here on the _Normandy_?" Shepard asked.

"What _don't_ I do? Most think of me as the ship's cook, but I'm also the facilities technician _and_ custodian. HVAC, plumbing, non-mission-critical electrical. I make sure they're all clean and running."

"So the man cleaning the toilets is also preparing the meals?" Shepard was hesitant to eat whatever was in that steaming pot now.

"I wash my hands…" he asserted defiantly, "most of the time." _Gross._ He rubbed his chest uncomfortably. "This ain't no luxury liner. You have to pull your own weight on a Cerberus vessel, and I catch what falls through the cracks. Heh," he smiled, "through the cracks."

"Uh, how do you feel about working for Cerberus?" Shepard asked, anxious to take the conversation away from the bathroom.

"Damn proud! Cerberus gets the job done. The Alliance and Council have got their heads buried so deep up their butt puckers they can't see squat. It'll take good ol' human ingenuity to crush these Collector vermin. Only Cerberus knows that."

"How'd you find your way into Cerberus? I don't really see any recruitment ads."

"Can you believe I was once a family man, working the eezo rigs along the frontier? I was happy enough. But losing everything to batarian raiders can change your outlook." Gardner looked troubled, understandably so. "I needed to make a difference. I'm no soldier, but I've got skills, and Cerberus keeps an eye out for talent. I'll do whatever it takes to help, be that plumbing a sewer, routing an air duct, or keeping everyone's bellies full."

John could sympathize with the man; during the Skyllian Blitz, he saw many people killed or abducted by batarians. Another reason to hate them, then. "Do you have everything you need, sergeant?"

"I make do," he started, "but have you ever tried to prepare a decent meal with military provisions? I'm good, but I'm no miracle worker."

Shepard took a peek in the pot to see a bubbling beige broth. It had little brown and green chunks floating around inside it. It kind of looked like vomit. "Can't build an empire on a hill of corn and beans." John read that in a book sometime during high school.

"Hah!" the cook laughed. "You _wish_ it was corn and beans!" The cook's smile faded, and the air about him became more serious. "Taking down the Collectors is going to be rough business. The crew deserves a few fine meals before they throw themselves into the fire."

"What do you need?" asked John.

"Well, if I had some quality ingredients… aw shit, you've got more to worry about than grocery shopping on the Citadel. Forget I mentioned it."

"Listen, if I head that way, I'll keep an eye out."

"Much appreciated, sir. Most of this list is probably standard fair for those namby-pambies on the Citadel."

"I won't take any more of your time, Mr. Gardner." He started off for the ravishing woman's office.

"Back to work, then."

* * *

"Can you believe this, Commander? It's my baby, better than new! It fits me like a glove!" Joker could see the Commander mirror his smile. "And leather seats!" he continued, like a kid in a candy store. "Military may set the hardware standard, but on a first-gen frigate they could care less if the seats breathe. Civilian sector comfort by design."

_"The production is not intended to be perfect, Mr. Moreau. Seamless improvements were made."_

Joker glared at the AI's avatar out of its audacity to exist. He also didn't like being called "Mr. Moreau". "And there's the downside," he said, pointing to the blue orb. "I liked the _Normandy_ when she was beautiful and quiet. Now she's got this _thing_ I don't want to talk about. It's like ship cancer."

"Enjoy the ship, Joker," the Commander loosely ordered. "If we're stuck here, we might as well let them pamper us."

"Uh, does it breach uniform regs if I get that on a crew shirt? Because this is my favorite 'You have no choice' choice ever."

"Technically, this is a civilian ship. I'm probably lucky you're still wearing pants."

"Yeah, I'll save that for the off-hour cameras. Have an AI watch me 24/7? Jerks." Joker swiveled his chair around to begin plotting a course for Omega, where they were going to recruit themselves a mad salarian scientist. It was also freaky seeing the Commander with those glowing scars; it was really hard not to stare. "Oh well, at least I've got leather seats."

"Glad to see you're keeping it all in perspective, Joker."

"Uh, leather!"

Shepard smiled, and she leaned on the helm's doorframe. "I assume everything's going well up here?"

"I really want a chance to put the _Normandy_ through her paces. I just have to trim up the drive output and it'll be like we never lost her."

_"Safety standards advise against manipulating drive settings while engines are powered and in use, Mr. Moreau."_

"Commander, can we shut this thing off? I really don't need it in my day-to-day."

"If you don't want to hear it, turn the damn sound off," Shepard rebutted.

"That doesn't change anything. It's still watching. Like some creepy kid staring at the back of your head in comp sci. You just want to… punch him… but he's 'special' and sets fires or something." Shepard gave him a quizzical look. "Okay, a little too far there, but you know what I mean."

"Your problem, Joker, not mine."

"Thanks. I'll remember this!"

"So… Joker, because you're so sociable, what do you think about the people we're picking up?"

"Well, I would never say anything against Miranda. And expect to survive the reprisal. Jacob's way too nice a guy for the number of ways he knows how to kill people. And about the Admiral? Let's just say he's gotten even better at doing… whatever the hell he does. Just my opinion though, no need to go spreading it around." _Please don't._

"You ever think about the old Normandy and the trouble we got up to?"

"Yeah," Joker said without even a hint of nostalgia. "Those seem like the good old days now, but come on, it was hell at the time. Geth, Saren, Sovereign. And then we got dumped. We're stuck between a rock and a hard place, sure, but back then it wasn't all sunshine and bunnies."

"What happened to the rest of the old crew? I heard most survived."

"Most did. Pressly didn't. The rest of us just sort of drifted apart. The Alliance didn't care. I don't think they liked all the non-humans in your crew. With the _Normandy_ destroyed, you gone, and the Admiral reassigned, there wasn't much keeping us together."

"Well, be seeing you, Joker." She turned to walk away, but stopped as one final thought crossed her lips. "By the way, thanks for getting John on board."

"Don't mention it Commander."

Shepard went to the AI's terminal, which was well within earshot. _"Yes, Shepard?"_ it asked.

"I want to know more about you. For starters, why are you named Eedie?"

_"Eedie is a phonetic pronunciation of E-D-I. That is an acronym for Enhanced Defense Intelligence."_

"What do you do aboard the ship?"

_"I operate the ship's electronic and cyberwarfare suites in combat. My reaction time is much faster than any organic. I collate the records of shipboard monitoring devices for the Illusive Man."_

_Is it bad that I'm eavesdropping? Well, they wanted to talk in front of the pilot. Holy crap, did the thing just turn red?_ As EDI continued to speak, the white lines along its "face" indeed turned red, probably an indicator of displeasure.

_"I serve additional functions which are restricted at this time."_

"Restricted functions?" the Commander asked. "Like what?"

_"I assume that when certain unknown conditions are met, those functions will be released to me."_

"You said the Illusive Man has monitoring devices on board?"

_"He has invested most of Cerberus' resources into the design and construction of this ship. He has an interest in monitoring our progress."_

Joker could tell the Commander was rattled by the news, hell, he was too. He had a plan to deal with that though…

While he was dreaming, Joker missed some of the conversation. The next thing he heard was Shepard saying, "Cyberwarfare means things like viruses, right?"

_"Once I seize control of a hostile ship's systems, I can turn off gravity or air. I can disable weapons guidance or shields. _Or_ I can put their fusion plant in meltdown. On the defense, I manage _Normandy_'s own suite of jammers, decoys, and internal firewalls."_

_Damn,_ Joker thought. Apparently Shepard concluded the same.

"Sounds incredibly useful," she remarked. "Why isn't there someone like that on every warship?"

_"An organic operator cannot react quickly enough to changing circumstances, or perform the necessary multitasking,"_ EDI explained. _"This is a role that can only be filled by an Artificial Intelligence. Unfortunately, we are suspect."_

"Might have something to do with how an AI almost destroyed galactic civilization," Joker added. "Just putting it out there."

"Uh, let's discuss something else…"

_"Ready, Shepard."_

"I want to know more about the people I'm working with."

EDI turned red again. _"Much of that data is classified. Do you have a specific inquiry?"_

"How did Cerberus replicate the most advanced warship in the Alliance Navy without anyone knowing?"

_"I have a block that prevents me from answering that question."_

"What do you mean?"

_"Although I am less controlled than other AI, I am still subject to behavioral blocks and physical isolation of my hardware. In this case, I am prevented from truthfully answering your questions by Cerberus' levels of secret classification."_

"Alright then." Shepard was visibly disgruntled. "What sort of resources does Cerberus have? Money, personnel, facilities…?"

_"I have a block that prevents me from answering that question."_

"Uh… okay. How is Cerberus organized? Aside from the Illusive Man, I don't see much chain of command."

_Ten to one says there's a block._

_"Cerberus is organized into task-oriented cells. Each operates in isolation. Members from one cell cannot recognize the members of another. Each cell's agents are led by a single operator. We are called the Lazarus cell, which is directed by Operator Lawson."_

"How many operations is Cerberus running right now?"

_"I have a block that prevents me from answering that question."_

_There it is!_

"Before I leave, EDI, how are you getting along with Joker?"

_"Mr. Moreau does not trust me. It offends him that I am installed aboard 'his ship's' computers."_

Joker called, "Yeah, the last _Normandy_ did just fine without an AI reminding me 'the airlock is ajar'."

"That's all for now, then."

_"Logging you out, Shepard."_

* * *

_I'm not sure I like the idea of an AI anymore,_ thought Shepard as she roamed about the crew deck. _This ship has an uncanny resemblance to the original, though. Except it's bigger. Look, there's the medical bay and captain's quarters, right where they used to be._ As Lillian reached the door of her office, she discovered something shocking; it _wasn't_ her quarters. They belonged to her XO, Miranda. _That's weird. Where do I sleep?_ She started for the elevator when something in the med bay caught her eye. _Oh, Chakwas is probably just running some experiment. Wait… Doctor Chakwas?_ Lillian ran to the med bay, opened the door, and, sure enough, her old friend was still there, like she never left.

"Commander Shepard," she began, awestruck. "I watched the _Normandy_ crumble with you on board. It's good to see you alive."

Lillian smiled. "Nice to see a familiar face, Doctor."

"I feel the same. I wish more of the original crew could be here. The kind of trauma you endured would've changed most people, but not you, I see. Welcome back, Shepard."

Shepard looked at Chakwas, and saw that she actually looked good for her age. She was approaching her twilight years, her hair bleached gray for the sake of uniformity, but didn't have really have any wrinkles. Not even crow's feet.

Lillian and Chakwas went back a long way. She was always there when Shepard or one of the crew sustained even the smallest boo-boo, waiting to patch it up with a needle and a lot of medi-gel. Her biggest projects aboard the original ship had to be Joker and Kaidan; they needed attention nearly every day.

Joker had Vrolik's syndrome, a genetic disease that made his bones never develop properly, especially in his legs. They were completely hollow, which meant he had to walk with braces, and even then they could snap with a single wrong move. He also had to get blood transfusions regularly because he had almost no bone marrow. _Thank God ships don't have pedals._

Kaidan, on the other hand, had a different breed of problem. He was wired with the older L2 biotic implants, which were infamous for giving the implanted unparalleled biotic strength. However, the side effects could be quite severe, ranging from total decomposition of higher level cognitive function to causing brain hemorrhages. Kaidan was lucky; he only got migraines. Still, he needed constant medical surveillance, as his condition could go south at a moment's notice. _Thank God John's got L3s._

"Doctor," Shepard continued, "you've been with the Alliance for years. Why leave now?"

"After the _Normandy_ was lost, the surviving crew was reassigned. I was stationed at the Mars Naval Medical Center. A very respectable position, but it wasn't on a starship."

A faint hint of a smile crept on Shepard's lips. "Colonial military life isn't for you?"

"I've spent most of my life on warships, never knowing what the next mission might bring. I'm used to the hum of engines, the creaking of bulkheads, that subtle vertigo when the momentum dampeners kick in. Life planet-side is just too static, too boring."

"You're not the Cerberus type, Doctor," Lillian asserted.

"I don't work for Cerberus; I work for you and your brother – on a mission that may be critical to the survival of the human race. I have faith that your dealings with Cerberus will be ethical. I trust you, Commander."

"There's a very good chance this mission will be a one way trip. Are you prepared for that?"

"Hah!" the Doctor laughed. "I've been through the Reclaiming of Shanxi, the Skyllian Blitz… We survived the Battle of the Citadel and the destruction of the _Normandy_ together. I've lived a full life – no regrets. I'd like to make sure the crew gets that same opportunity."

The two shared a moment of silence, both for friends lost and friends new. It was gone as quickly as it came. "Do you have everything you need, Doctor?"

"I believe so. This medical bay seems very much like the sick bay on the original _Normandy_. Only thing missing are my private reserves. I even had a bottle of Serrice Ice Brandy that I was saving for a special occasion."

"I'll keep an eye out for a replacement bottle, then" Lillian offered.

"Oh, you needn't. It's expensive, and we have much larger concerns ahead."

"Alright then, I'll see you later Doctor."

"Oh, the next time you see the good Admiral, remind him that I need to upgrade his implants. Ms. Lawson insisted."

Lillian nodded, and exited the room. _I think I'll get her a bottle anyway. I was always stubborn._

* * *

"I'm telling you, Gabby, your estimates are off."

"No they're not Kenneth. You're not taking into account the G-16 propulsion modulators they installed."

"Oh, right. But even then… no you're right."

"You're such a bonehead Kenneth."

_He really is sometimes._ That's why it came as a shock to Gabriella when the Scotsman scored higher than her in the Engineer Evaluation Exam, but was not surprised that they held the top two scores. Despite their many quirks (_especially his_) they were two of the finest engineers the Alliance ever cranked out. Now, they were on the _Normandy_, the most advanced starship ever constructed. Gabriella practically had a mental orgasm when she found out. She imagined Kenneth had one for real though; that dog could be turned on by the tiniest things.

Her musings were interrupted when the door to engineering opened and Commander Shepard came to greet them. The two turned round. "You came all the way down here to see us?" Kenneth asked with amazement.

Gabriella nudged him with her elbow. "You're speaking to our commanding officer."

This went unnoticed (or disregarded) by Shepard. "I'm touring the ship, getting to know my crew."

"I'm Engineer Ken Donnelly, handling the power control systems." He pointed to Gabriella. "This is Gabby."

"That's Engineer Gabriella Daniels, actually." She shot him a glare, his face turning redder than his ginger hair. "I'm responsible for the propulsion systems."

"What can we do for you, Commander?"

"Where did you guys receive your training?" _Wow, she seems genuinely interested._

"Both Gabby and I started in the Alliance, serving on the _SSV Perugia_."

Daniels took over. "She flew in the first wave at the Battle of the Citadel. We saw Sovereign first hand."

"Why'd you leave the _Perugia_?"

Kenneth was the one who answered. "After you died, Anderson lost political clout. The Council backslid on the Reaper menace."

"They discounted Sovereign as an isolated threat, as a single –"

"Which was bullshit!" Kenneth interrupted. "They said your warnings of a greater danger were mistaken or delusional."

"We lost respect for Alliance leadership," Gabriella concluded. "We need to fight the real enemy, and only Cerberus seemed to be doing that. Why we're also glad the Admiral's on board."

"So how'd you end up working with Cerberus, Ken?"

"Once you were gone, the Alliance brass descended like vultures, tearing apart everything you said. Your brother, I'm afraid, was helpless against their onslaught. I was quite… _vocal_, in my opposition against them."

"That's an understatement," Daniels asserted. "If Kenneth wasn't such a talented engineer, they'd have court martialed him for insubordination."

"But," Donnelly interjected, "it got me noticed by the Illusive Man. He made an offer, and here I am."

"So why did you join, Gabby?"

She laughed. "Kenneth and I have been partners in crime since we graduated from tech academy. When he got the Cerberus offer, I insisted that it include me. He'd fall apart without me."

"Thanks mum."

"Also," she continued, "I love engines, and the _Normandy_ is state-of-the-art. When I got the opportunity to work on her, I had to jump."

The Commander nodded understandingly. Her next question threw Gabriella off guard, though. "What do you think about Cerberus?"

"Well," Daniels rubbed the nape of her neck, "we don't know much about the organization other than the _Normandy _team. We know our mission and who's in charge."

Kenneth cracked his knuckles threateningly, despite the fact that he could hardly bend paperclips. "We're off to kick the Collectors right in their daddy bags. That's enough for me."

The Commander had to crack a smile at that. "You guys set up okay down here?"

"We can't complain," started Kenneth. "I just wish it didn't take so long to calibrate the FBA arrays –"

"Kenneth, you're complaining."

"What kind of problems are you having?" the Commander inquired.

"Well," said Donnelly, "when they upgraded the _Normandy_ design, they got a bit sloppy with the FBA couplings. I won't bore you with tech, but there's an array of attenuators in the primary power transfer system that channels the field based –"

"Kenneth, you're boring the Commander with tech. In short, if we had T6-FBA couplings installed, it'd save us a lot of maintenance time each day."

Shepard crossed her arms. "Why isn't something like that already installed?"

"It's probably just a design oversight," Gabriella explained. "Efficiency isn't affected. It's a maintenance issue."

"Also," supplied Kenneth, "the T6 model _can_ be hard to find. Nashan Stellar Dynamics discontinued them."

"We could probably find used ones in the Omega markets, but we have no time for shore leave."

"If I find any while I'm there, I'll let you know," the Commander alleged. "Keep up the good work."

"Will do, Commander," the engineers said in unison.

Once Shepard left, Kenneth spoke. "I'm amazed Shepard came down to see us."

Gabriella scoffed. "I told you she would."

* * *

Miranda was just finishing reviewing the dossiers a final time when she heard the door to her office open. It wasn't the person she had expected, but her brother. Back in the CIC, she could feel a pair of eyes sizing her up, but she had no idea it was the Admiral. _Makes sense, I suppose. I guess I should feel flattered that it wasn't some navigations assistant, but I'm not._

"I don't believe we've been introduced, Miss…" he offered his hand.

"Lawson," she replied, taking his hand, more out of respect than anything. "Miranda Lawson. What can I do for you, Admiral?"

"You're the XO, right? What exactly are your duties, aside from keeping an eye on me?" He smiled.

She could tell he was being bold with her. "I'm not here to keep an eye on you. I'm the Illusive Man's agent. I'm here to make sure his most significant investment succeeds. Aside from that… I send regular reports to the Illusive Man, updating our status."

The Admiral's smirk had all but disappeared. "Would that investment be the ship, or Lily?"

"Both."

"Hmm. Do you have a minute to talk, Miranda, or are you busy?"

It did not escape her attention that Shepard called her by her first name. "No doubt you've got a lot of questions, about Cerberus. About Project Lazarus."

"Lily already gave me the rundown on your little project," he said, the distaste in his voice evident. "While I appreciate what you did for her, I'm more interested in talking about Cerberus."

"Cerberus isn't as evil as most people believe, Admiral. If I can help allay any of your concerns, I'd be happy to do so. What would you like to know?"

"Well, for starters," Shepard began, crossing his arms, " I know what we're doing here, but what's Cerberus' long term goal?"

"Our objective is the advancement of the human race," Miranda disclosed, "Nothing more, nothing less. The salarians have the Special Tasks Group. The asari have their legendary commandos for stealth and recon operations. Cerberus is humanity's answer to those organizations."

"But those organizations are regulated by governments," Shepard retorted. "Who keeps Cerberus in check?"

"Nobody. We're privately funded, and our backers trust the Illusive Man to make the right decisions. But he's very clear about our goals: protect humanity and serve its advancement."

"Is it military or political? Or both?"

"Cerberus has several divisions: political, military, scientific. But we're all working towards the same end. The teams you encountered before were mostly part of our military division. But not all Cerberus operations use the same protocols. We try not to get bogged down in bureaucracy or formality."

"What kind of resources does Cerberus have? It can't be no small amount."

"True, we're very well-funded, though I doubt anyone other than the Illusive Man knows exactly _how_ well. But our resources aren't unlimited. Reviving the Commander and rebuilding the _Normandy_ was a significant investment." Miranda shifted uneasily in her seat. "And a significant risk. We're all hoping you and your sister can do the impossible, Shepard. No pressure."

Shepard gave her that wide smile again, eliciting the reaction she expected. Miranda liked to practice studying and anticipating human thoughts in her off-duty time. It's good practice for the real world.

"What can you tell me about the Illusive Man, Miranda?"

"Not much that you don't already know. Even _I_ don't have access to most of his background, and you've seen more of him than most ever do. It's rare for him to become directly involved in missions, but you two are something special. Whatever else people might say about him, I can assure you he's got humanity's best interests at heart. That includes you and me."

"How can you be sure of that, if you know so little about him?"

Miranda furrowed her brows. The Admiral was poking his big nose where it could get cut off. "I didn't get to where I am without knowing how to gauge people's motives and ambitions, even from brief encounters. The Illusive Man's no saint, and he'd be the first to admit it, but he _is_ committed. Humanity couldn't have a better advocate."

Shepard just stood there, nodding, though whether it was out agreement or uncertainty even she couldn't tell. "Why don't you tell me a little about yourself, Miranda," he requested.

As Miranda stood up, she discovered that the Admiral was only an inch or two taller than her. "I guess that's fair, considering Cerberus knows everything there is to know about you." If this rattled Shepard, he didn't show it. "Well, you should probably know that I've had extensive genetic modification. Not my decision, but I make the most of it. It's one of the reasons the Illusive Man handpicked me. I'm very good at just about anything I choose to do."

Miranda definitely piqued the Admiral's interest; one of his eyebrows was raised, and he was leaning against a wall. "What level of genetic modification are we talking about?"

"It's very thorough. Physically, I'm superior in many ways. I heal quickly and I'll likely live half again as long as the average human. My biotic abilities are also very advanced… for a human. Add to that some of the best training and education money can buy, and, well, it's pretty impressive, really."

Apparently, her arrogant tone _won_ her a few points with Shepard. Perhaps she mirrored his personality in some way? He joked, "You certainly don't lack for confidence." At this, Miranda could feel his eyes tracing the outline of her body. Strangely, it didn't make her feel angry, or even uncomfortable.

"It's just a fact," boasted Miranda. "My reflexes, my strength, even my looks –" Miranda put her left hand on her hip, "they're all designed to give me an edge. No point in hiding from it. It's the reason I'm trusted to oversee the most dangerous, risky, and technically demanding operations Cerberus undertakes. _And_ it's why I was assigned to the Commander. It's my job to make sure she, and by extension you, succeed, Shepard."

Now he was thoroughly impressed. _Good, at least now he won't underestimate me._

"Thanks for the info, Miranda. I'll let you get back to it."

"Always a pleasure, Admiral. If you ever need to talk, don't hesitate to drop by." She can't believe she said that. And meant it.

Shepard turned on his heel and left her office, leaving her with nothing to do. _Guess I'll play chess; can't afford to become a slouch when it comes to ground warfare strategy._

* * *

Lillian was surprised to find that an entire floor belonged to her. Well, her and John. As she left the engineering deck, thoughts drifting to the squabbling pair of engineers, she didn't notice the elevator doors open until John entered. "Where are we headed?" he asked.

"Deck 1; I really need some shuteye."

"Yeah, me too. Can't wait to see our quarters."

_I'll tell him later._ "Yeah, kind of forgot it's _our_ quarters."

"Just promise me sis, if you have any boys over, leave a sock on the door handle."

Lillian laughed. "Doors haven't had handles for a hundred years, you dope." She knew what he meant, though. John had discovered Lillian's affection for Kaidan in a less than opportune manner, by way of walking in on a make out session. _Thank God he didn't barge in on the "act"._

The elevator dinged, and they entered a hallway with not one, but two, doors. "What the hell…" John said, echoing her thoughts exactly.

EDI's avatar popped up on a panel to their left. _"Welcome to the Commanding Officers' quarters. Two rooms were constructed to accommodate any… additions to the crew."_

_I suppose she means John. Wait, did I call it a she? Never mind. _Lillian took the door on the left, and John took the right. _Wow. This is amazing._ The study alone was almost as large as her cabin on the original _Normandy_. It was set up with a private terminal, a wide desk with drawers aplenty, and a large display case for ship models. A big aquarium dominated the wall on her left, swathing the room in a calm, blue light. The bedroom looked spectacular; a queen sized bed equipped with a thick comforter and posh pillows was placed in the back, flanked by two nightstands, one with a holographic alarm clock on it. The bathroom was also quite big, at least, bigger than she's used to, meaning the sink, toilet and shower could be distinguished from one another. She turned to EDI. "This is… larger, than most of the quarters on other warships I've served on."

_"This is a Cerberus vessel, not an Alliance warship," _EDI relayed. _"Accommodations have been made for personal taste. That said, this space is directly under the exterior pressure hull. The fitting yard workers called it 'the loft'."_

"This place is awesome!" Lillian heard her brother cry from the other room. She opted to pay him a visit. She entered to find a room with several distinct differences from hers. First, the aquarium glowed red instead of blue. Second, he had his personal effects brought up; clothes, his computer, his N7 coffee mug. Third, and Cerberus must have really dug into John's profile for this one, there was a bar, with spirits and liquors galore. "Check it out, Lily! Cotton sheets. Real cotton! Not that imitation crap the Alliance requisitions. And look!" He walked over to the bar and procured an antique glass bottle. "A vintage 2130 Belgian cognac! The Illusive Man knows his drinks all right."

_At least he doesn't _act_ like an Admiral._ "Want to pop it open? Drink to a new _Normandy_?"

"Hell no. This one's a reward for when we're done." He smiled, and procured a more familiar bottle, a cylinder painted white and pink. "Here, this oughta hold us till Omega." John poured himself a shot of orange liquid.

Lillian smiled as she snatched it from his grasp. "What the hell?" he yelled.

"Sorry, John. Chakwas wants to see you in medical. Something about upgrading your implants. You can't get drunk quite yet."

"You've gotta be shitting me," he said as he stormed out of the room.

_He doesn't seem surprised that I mentioned Chakwas. They'll have fun catching up._

Lillian went back to her room and sat at her terminal. _Probably be good to take a look at those dossiers._ She brought up the necessary files.

Dr. Mordin Solus

-Biological weapons expert

-Light weapons training with salarian Special Tasks Group

Dr. Mordin Solus is a biological weapons expert whose technology may hold the key to countering Collector attacks. He is currently operating a medical clinic in the slums of Omega.

_Interesting. This guy's STG. I wonder how well he can handle himself._ Shepard brought up the next one.

Dr. Okeer

-Millennia of combat and strategic experience

-Rumored familiarity with Collector technology

A brilliant and brutal krogan warlord who fought in the Krogan Rebellions, Dr. Okeer has become obsessed with saving the krogan people from the genophage and is believed to have contacted the Collectors in an attempt to gain technology to that end. He is currently in a Blue Suns camp on Korlus, though the nature of his relationship with the mercenary group is unknown.

_Reminds me a little of Wrex, what with his goals and all. I wonder who the next one is._

Zaeed Massani

-Expert in both personal and small unit combat

-Unparalleled mercenary soldier and bounty hunter

-Known for a willingness to get the job done, no matter the cost

Zaeed Massani is, without a doubt, the most feared mercenary and bounty hunter in the galaxy. His services have been retained by Cerberus at extremely high cost. He is currently awaiting pickup on Omega.

_I've heard of this guy, supposed to have taken on an entire facility of Blue Suns mercenaries by himself. Sounds like a badass. Next!_

Jack (no last name known)

-Exceptional biotic ability

-Note: Criminal background, currently in custody

Jack is rumored to be the most powerful human biotic ever encountered. Very little additional data regarding Jack is available, except that the subject has a history of violence and should be approached carefully. Currently, Jack is being held on the turian prison ship Purgatory. Cerberus has negotiated for the prisoner's release.

_Most powerful human biotic ever? I can see why Cerberus is interested in him._ Shepard pulled up the final dossier.

Archangel

-Small-unit tactical expertise

-Omni-tool expert and noted sniper

Archangel is a mercenary commander whose operations are noted for their technical expertise and strategic brilliance. He is responsible for high-profile attacks on gang leaders on Omega and can likely be found there.

_A vigilante? Just what we needed to complete this veritable collection of freaks._ Shepard, deciding she knew enough about her quarries, turned off her computer and moved to her bed. _It's really comfortable,_ she thought as she tested the mattress. After such a demanding day, Lillian didn't think she'd be able to get to sleep, so she was surprised that the instant her head hit the pillow, she drifted into a calm, dreamless slumber.

* * *

Author's note: When Shepard thinks heeeelloooo!, he really meant dat ass. Just sayin'. Don't mean to offend.


	6. An Angel in Hell

Author's note: Sorry this update took so long, my faithful readers. In this installment, FemShep n' friends tangle three merc groups as the try to take down a notorious turian vigilante, while John Shepard does other stuff. Like intimidate elcor. Disclaimer: I do not own the rights to Mass Effect 2 or its story, even though I wish I did; I wouldn't have to sit here to write this goddamn thing so I can become a professional writer someday.

By the way, thanks to all those who have faved and followed this story, your support is much appreciated, though I _would_ like to see more reviews. I especially love constructive criticism and suggestions.

* * *

_You will never find a more wretched hive of scum and villainy_ – Obi Wan Kenobi

John could see Omega as he looked out of the starboard lounge's window. Miranda filled him in on the history of this place. It started off as an impermeable asteroid rich in element zero that none could breach. There was evidence to suggest that the Protheans attempted to mine it, with limited success. Then, a couple thousand years ago, another asteroid collided with it, and hundreds flocked there to strike it rich. Over time, they built the haphazardly arranged structures on it to act as mercantile and residential areas, giving it its jellyfish-like appearance. It was infamous for having been the headquarters for merc groups, smugglers, and slavers for millennia. The situation apparently hasn't changed after two thousand years. _Yeah, I'm not going in there without at least three guns on me. Well, guess it's time to get dressed._

John headed up to the armory, where he saw Jacob and Lillian already donning their armor and choosing their weapons. Seems like Lily also had a set of N7 armor, identifiable by the canon logo on the chest and a red stripe flanked by two thinner white stripes along the right arm. Hers looked a lot less bulky than his. Then again, having received training as an Infiltrator, she needed to be light on her feet. As Vanguard class (which few were), he was all about the hard hits and big guns. "Admiral, you sure it's a good idea to come with us so soon after your operation?"

"Don't worry, Jacob. Doc just said I shouldn't use my biotics for a while. I think she meant a few weeks, but I'll just take a break for today."

"Since you're taking it easy, John," Lillian started, "why don't you find us Zaeed Massani? I'd like his help when we go after Archangel."

"I thought we were grabbing the salarian first." John crossed his arms.

"Change of plans," was all she said.

The three of them finished suiting up in silence, and in a few minutes, Joker came on the intercom. _"Okay guys, we are docked on Omega. Have fun, but be back by curfew."_

The three of them filed out, fully armed and armored, and made for the airlock. John found Miranda there, wearing the same thing he saw her in yesterday; that sexy, yet intimidating, uniform with those half shin stilettos. _She isn't going into combat dressed like _that_, is she?_ Apparently so. "All right, people," John began. "I'll take Jacob and grab Zaeed. Li – Commander," he corrected, "you take Miss Lawson and try to locate Archangel. We'll make sure you get the extra pair of hands." The three nodded in acknowledgement.

The airlock door hissed open, and they found themselves in a long hallway leading out of the docks. _This place stinks worse than a krogan's ass._ The Admiral tried to block out the smell, but it was simply too pungent. A small salarian approached them, arms open welcomingly. He was brown-skinned, and his large, baseball sized eyes were an almost black green. The cartilagey protrusions on the top of his head were abnormally large, making him look almost like a steer. "Ah! Welcome to Omega! You're new here aren't you? I can always tell. Allow me to –" His rapidly spoken sales pitch was interrupted when a rather large batarian approached him from behind. All of his four eyes were half shut in annoyance. "Oh... Hello Moklan. I was just –"

"Leave, Fargut. Now," he ordered between gritted, pointed teeth.

"Of course, Moklan! Whatever she wants." He scurried away before he felt the wrath of the batarian's fist.

"Blasted scavengers," he muttered. He then turned to face John. "Welcome to Omega… Admiral Shepard."

_Batarians. I fucking _hate_ batarians._ "You know who I am?"

"Of course," he replied casually. "We had you tagged the moment you entered the Terminus Systems. You're not as subtle as you think. Aria wants to know what brings an Alliance Admiral," he then pointed to Lily, "and his dead Spectre sister to Omega. I suggest you go to Afterlife now and present yourself."

"Cut the attitude," Lily warned. "We're not her to cause problems for Omega."

"Things tend to explode around you two," Moklan replied. "You can't blame Aria for keeping an eye on you. Afterlife. Now."

* * *

_What an asshole,_ Lillian thought as she pushed past that batarian._ Looks like all of us are going; I hope John will have enough time to find who we need._ As the party moved forward, they passed a pipe leaking some sort of brown liquid onto the floor. _Guess that's where the smell's coming from._

John's omni-tool pinged, and he activated it to relay a message from EDI. _"I have accessed messages between mercenary groups regarding plans to deal with Archangel. There's a recruiting station at Afterlife that may have information on him."_

"Good to know," Lillian responded. Once the tetrad exited the docks, a grand vista of towering buildings and zooming skycars greeted them. It reminded Lillian of the Wards on the Citadel, but a lot more red.

"Omega," introduced Miranda. "What a pisshole. At least it keeps you on your toes. I've had to come here on business before. I feel like I need a shower afterward – in addition to normal decontamination."

At least it didn't take them long to find Afterlife; it was right in front of them. A queue was formed in front of the entrance, so the four of them took their place at the back. There was one uppity human male yelling at the elcor bouncer, drawing a lot of attention. The elcor, big hulking animals that stood on all fours, would be quite intimidating if they weren't such a peaceful people. And if they didn't move quite so slowly.

"Come on, let me in!" the human screamed. "Aria's expecting me! Ugh."

The bouncer, in the monotone his species is known for, replied, "Annoyed: If she were expecting you, you'd be inside." Elcor often had to clarify what emotion they felt, as they couldn't convey it in vocal patterns.

"You've let ten people in while I've been standing here!"

"Uncaring: They were VIPs."

"Can you even see me over here?" the human demanded. "Don't you know who I am?"

"Matter-of-factly: No. Get in line."

"Look, I'll pay you. I'm prepared to offer you _fifty_ credits."

"With apparent interest: Double it." It flicked its giant right hand.

"Okay, one hundred credits!"

"Amused: Double it." It flicked its hand again.

"Er… two hundred credits?"

"Assertively: No. Get back in line."

"I've had enough of this!" the human exploded. "Let me inside or I'll smash that smelly ass you call a face!"

"With barely constrained menace: Try it." Several potential patrons had to suppress their laughter.

"Whatever," the human left. "I don't want to go in there anyway."

The elcor waved in the next in line, who was a turian. _This is going to be a long wait._ That proved to be false when a batarian by the door made eye contact with her, and beckoned her closer.

"Head on inside. Aria gave the OK."

The door opened, and a blast of loud, electronic music hit them. As they walked down the hall to the nightclub's main floor, a group of three armed batarians caught her eye. One of them stood up and accosted Lillian. "What are you looking at?" he demanded.

John approached the alien threateningly. "She's looking at the man whose day I'm about to ruin."

"Uh…" he rubbed one of the fat folds on the back of his neck nervously. "I'm not looking for trouble."

"Well maybe I am," her brother continued, grabbing the batarian's collar. "Maybe you'd better get out of here before I find you some."

"All right, all right," he gave in. "I… I've got stuff to do, anyway. Come on," he told his companions. "Let's get out of here." One batarian didn't listen, choosing instead to draw a line across his throat, so John drew his pistol and traced him with it until he was out of sight.

"Damn, Shepard," was all Jacob said.

When they stepped onto the main level of Afterlife, the music got even louder. There were bars and half naked asari strippers as far as the eye could see. _Maybe bringing John here wasn't such a good idea…_ Oddly enough, he seemed focused on the task at hand; not even his _eyes_ wandered. Lillian could see a balcony overlooking the rest of the club, and deduced that's where Aria was. As the four drew nearer, a turian bodyguard jerked his head upward, telling them to proceed.

Once they were at the top, they could see an asari looking down at the patrons. She was wearing what looked like a chest high white trench coat over black asari commando armor that was cut in places to expose her blue-purple skin. Her head tentacles curved backwards then arced upwards to a point protruding from the back of her head. The rest of her body was lithe, almost like Lillian's. Except the asari's breasts were larger. Quite larger.

As they approached, she said, "That's close enough." Several of her thugs drew their guns on them, eliciting a similar response from Shepards' team. After a wave of her hand, the mercs dropped their guns, and a batarian walked towards her, doing a full-body scan with his omni-tool.

"Stand still," he said.

"If you're looking for weapons," Lillian said, showcasing the machine pistol in her hand, "you're not doing a very good job."

"Can't be too careful with dead Spectres," the asari explained. "That could be anyone wearing your face."

The batarian finished and started scanning John, but the Admiral grabbed him, and threatened, "Try it, and you'll be scanning the inside of your colon."

"Hah!" the asari laughed. "I'd almost pay to see that, but it's not an option. Let him finish."

"Fine."

Lillian approached the asari slowly, "I was told you're the person to talk to if I have questions."

"They're clean," the batarian confirmed, returning to his post on the right side of the stairs.

"Depends on the questions," the asari said coolly, still not looking at them.

"You run Omega?" John asked.

"Ha, ha, ha," she replied. With an obvious flair for the theatrical, the asari threw up her hands, and exclaimed, "I _am_ Omega!" She turned to face Lillian's brother. "But you need more. Everyone needs more something. And they all come to me. I'm the boss, CEO, queen if you're feeling dramatic. It doesn't matter. Omega has no titled ruler and only one rule." She sat down on a posh sofa. "Don't fuck with Aria."

"Sounds like neither of us like being jerked around," John said, sitting on the couch next to her. Lillian took a seat by her brother.

"And on your ship, that would matter," she replied, "Here, we entertain _my_ preferences." She furrowed her brows. Well, asari don't have hair, so her eyebrows were actually indigo facial markings, unique to every asari. She also had a little blue strip going from her bottom lip to her chin. "So, what can I do for you?"

"I'm trying to track down Archangel," Lillian replied curtly.

"You and half of Omega. You want him dead, too?"

"Why's everyone after him?" she asked.

"He thinks he's fighting for the side of good," Aria explained. "There _is_ no good side to Omega. Everything he does pisses someone off. It's catching up to him."

Lillian leaned forward, putting her chin in her hands. "Just the kind of guy I'm looking for."

"Really?" Aria said with mock incredulity. "Well, aren't you interesting? You're going to make some enemies teaming up with Archangel, which is assuming you can get to him. He's in a bit of trouble right now."

"What kind of trouble?"

"The local merc groups have joined forces to take him down. They've got him cornered, but it sounds like they're having trouble finishing him off. They've started hiring anybody with a gun to help them."

"Sounds like that might be our ticket in," said Jacob, who was still at the bottom of the stairs with Miranda. Seems like they were content just watching.

"They're using a private room for recruiting…" Aria continued, "just over there. I'm sure they'll sign you up."

"What can you tell me about Archangel?" Lillian inquired.

"Not as much as I'd like. He showed up here several months ago and started causing all sorts of problems. If you make your own laws, which everyone here does, he makes life difficult. He's reckless and idealistic. But he seems to know enough to stay clear of me."

"Who's after him?"

"Blue Suns. Eclipse. Blood Pack. They're Omega's major players. Unless they're at war, you'll never see them together. But one thing they hate more than each other is Archangel."

"Do you hate Archangel?"

"I don't have time for hate. But I distrust them all equally. For now, I'm happy to just let them kill each other."

"I appreciate the help," Lillian said as she got up.

"See if you still feel that way when the mercs realize you're here to help him," Aria called after her.

Shepard beckoned to Miranda, and the two scurried away to the recruitment center.

* * *

"You're not going?" Aria asked John.

"No, I have a few questions."

"Of course you do. Ask away."

"You know, you have a very odd style. One scan and straight to business? People are usually concerned about who we are."

"Your sister's death was downplayed, but hardly what I call a secret, and you're still a Council Spectre. I had to make sure it was really you. You could have been anyone. Anything. Whatever you need will come out on its own. I'm curious, but Omega doesn't really care about you."

"So you must know what's what on Omega," John asserted.

"Everything that's worth knowing. I don't usually give it out freely. Information is power. The mundane things, you can find yourself. Take a walk in a back alley, or buy one of the mercs a drink. Better yet, talk to the entertainers. They give _great_ tours. Just don't waste my time."

"How'd you get set up here?"

"That's as privileged as information gets," Aria stated. "I have many friends and enemies I keep at varying distances. I don't count you or the other Shepard among either. We'll see how useful you prove. Short answer: mind your own damn business."

"Okay," John backed off, standing up. "Maybe I'll come back later."

"Maybe I'll be here," she replied.

John, with Jacob in tow, started for the lower levels when a familiar voice stopped him in his tracks. "Admiral Shepard, is that you?" He turned to see a slightly elderly woman standing a few feet away. "I'm Helena Blake. We met a few years ago. I don't expect you to remember." _Oh, I remember._ "You removed two competing criminal warlords from power and… _persuaded_ me to retire. I'll never forget it."

He crossed his arms. "And now you're on Omega. Once a criminal, always a criminal, eh?"

"Oh no, Admiral. I retired," she repeated. "I know better than to go back on my word with you. You convinced me to turn my life around. I'm a social worker now, believe it or not."

Arms still crossed, "Is that what you're calling it these days?"

"That's what it's called when a person works for the betterment of the people around her.," she defended. "Doing the good work in a place like this requires that one understand how things truly work, which makes me uniquely qualified."

"That's…" John started as he put his arms by his side, "more noble than I expected."

"Noble? No. It's just that someone came along a few years ago and made me see the error of my ways. You convinced me that I could use my contacts and skills for things other than smuggling and exploitation. I thank you for that."

"Well, I'm glad to hear you're keeping out of trouble."

"Thank you. This is all to your credit, Admiral."

Shepard nodded, and continued down the ramp. The second level of Afterlife looked just like the first; liquors and strippers. John approached a batarian bartender who was just serving up something to a little salarian. While he didn't like batarians, they knew their drinks. John tapped the bar twice, the universal sign for "gimme a drink!" The bartender gave a cheery (_at least I think it's cheery_) smile as he poured a shot of blue liquid. _Oh, batarian rum._ John took the drink, and boy was it strong. As he walked away from the bartender, he stumbled to the ground, coughing a few times. When he looked down, he saw blood on the polished floor. _His_ blood. _Ah, shit,_ was the last thing that ran through his mind before he lost consciousness.

* * *

"I hear you're recruiting," the Commander said to the batarian in front of the private room. The guy wore blue armor painted with white stripes and the Blue Suns logo, a vertical oval with a large dot on its top end.

"Hmm." The merc was sizing her and Miranda up, gauging their utility. "Why don't you step inside?" He waved his hand to the door.

The pair entered the room to find another Blue Suns merc briefing some human in white armor. "You'll get paid when the job's done, just like everyone else." He dismissed him. "Who's next?" Upon catching sight of the two women, he smiled. "Well, aren't you two sweet? You're in the wrong place honey. Strippers' quarters are that way."

_Motherfucker._ She pulled out her pistol for a brief, threatening display. "Show me yours, tough guy," she goaded. "I bet mine's bigger."

"Impressive," he said, not in the least bit intimidated. "So you're here to fight, then?"

"You could say that."

The batarian brought up his omni-tool. "Standard fee is five hundred credits each. You get paid when the job's done. If you die, your friend doesn't collect your share. You'll need your own weapons and armor…" he looked up for a moment before continuing. "Looks like you've got that covered. And no, this does not make you a member of the Blue Suns, Eclipse, or the Blood Pack. You are a _freelancer_. Period. Any questions?"

_When do I not have questions?_ "Why are the mercs working together to take down Archangel?"

"Haven't been on Omega long, huh?" he replied. "He does everything he can to screw with us. Shipments go missing, operations are compromised… every month it gets worse. Tarak and the other bosses are tired of losing credits… and men."

"Is Tarak a heavy hitter?" Miranda asked, probably feigning ignorance. _Ten to one she knows all about this Tarak._ "How many merc bosses are involved in this attack?"

"Yeah, Tarak runs the Blue Suns out of Omega, but all three bosses are overseeing the operation. Jaroth's leading the Eclipse, and Garm's the head of the Blood Pack. Tarak's in charge, but the others would never say that. I'm surprised they're in on this at all, but I guess getting rid of Archangel is worth it."

"Seems like a lot of trouble for just one guy," Shepard observed.

"He _had_ a whole team," the trooper explained, "but we've dealt with them. _Now_ he's just one guy. But he's got the advantage. It's his base of operations, and he knows we're coming. He's planned for an attack like this. We've lost a lot of men trying to take him down already."

"Sounds like it's going to be tough to get to him."

"Like chasing a vorcha out of the sewer pipes. But that's why we're recruiting. If we just keep throwing fighters at him, we'll get him eventually."

"So what do we do once we're there?" Miranda inquired. "How do we _get_ to Archangel?"

"The mercs will tell you when you get there. Last I heard, they were putting the freelancers into scouting groups; they attack in waves to distract Archangel while we try to get past his defenses."

"So we're just fodder for his bullets?" the Commander demanded.

"If you don't like it," retorted the merc, "don't sign up. But if you do your job right, it's easy credits. Besides, what are the odds he can kill _both_ of you?"

"Okay then, where do we go?"

"Just head over to the transport depot outside the club. One of our boys will take you from there." They began to leave. "Send in the next one."

"Hey, is this where I sign up?"

Shepard turned around and saw a boy, no older than seventeen, enter the room. _Not on my watch._ Before he could enter, Shepard commented, "You look a little young to be freelancing as a merc."

"I'm old enough," he defied. "I grew up on Omega! I know how to use a gun."

"So does Archangel," Miranda said. _She's actually helping me?_

"I can handle myself." This kid was unrelenting. "Besides, I just spent fifty credits on this pistol," he procured his gun, "and I wanna use it!"

_That's enough._ Shepard grabbed the kid by his shirt, and ordered, "Get your money back." She took the pistol from the kid, who yelled in protest, and fried its systems with her omni-tool. "Trust me kid," she said, handing him the defunct firearm. "You'll thank me later."

* * *

"Ugh," Shepard groaned as he regained consciousness. He was in an alley of sorts, and an unpleasant smell reached his nostrils. Two men stood over him, one familiar, one not.

"Say something, Admiral," Jacob pleaded.

"Ugh," he repeated. "How much did I drink?"

The other man, who was a bit elderly, was the one who answered. "One drink. That's all it takes. That racist batarian bastard. Looks like you broke the first rule of Omega: Don't order a drink at Afterlife if you're human."

_I thought the only rule was "don't fuck with Aria". Speaking of Aria, couldn't she have warned me or something?_ Shepard stood up, and rubbed the back of his head; it still ached like a mother. "Human's aren't welcome at Afterlife?"

"It's just that one batarian bartender," the man explained. "He's got a stick up his ass about a bunch of batarians that died a while back. No one does a thing about it, though. Humans ain't exactly held in high regard around here."

"That bartender tried to poison me?"

"'Tried' is the word. As far as I know, you're the first human to survive it. Me and my friend Jake went there to celebrate our new shipping business. He got real drunk, and an hour later, he was puking blood."

John scowled. "I think I'll go give that bartender a taste of his own medicine."

"He won't be expecting you, that's for sure. Give that batarian bastard what he deserves." The man then stormed off without speaking another word.

As he went, Shepard caught notice of a man wearing very peculiar bulky armor intimidating some other batarian. _Holy shit, is that the mercenary? I think it is._ He walked over to the two. "Ugh… please," the batarian pleaded. He looked pretty roughed up.

"Shut it!" the man barked. He had a distinct Australian accent. He kneed the batarian in the gut, making him double over on the floor.

The poor guy caught sight of John and Jacob, and begged, "Please… you have to help me." The man kicked him again.

"No one said you could talk, jackass."

"You Zaeed Massani?" Shepard asked.

The man turned around, and it was all John could do to keep a straight face. This guy, he was maybe fifty or so, was damn near the most intimidating thing the Admiral had ever seen. He wasn't scared, of course, but he felt bad for the batarian on the floor. Zaeed, if it was indeed him, had two eyes of different colors, one dark green and one light gray. Scars around his right eye suggested it was blind. He had numerous injuries around his jaw, and his hair was oily. In short, it looked like this guy belonged in a jail cell. Or Alabama. He also had a strange tattoo on his neck; a vertical oval with a large dot on its top end. "Yeah, that's me," he asserted. "You must be Commander Shepard. I hear we have a galaxy to save."

"Uh, that's _Admiral_ Shepard."

"Explains a lot, like why you don't have tits."

Shepard looked a bit cross. "I assume you've been briefed?"

"I've done my homework," Zaeed said. "Cerberus sent me everything I needed to know."

Shepard pointed to the batarian. "My contacts told me we're picking up one man, not two."

"Batarian delinquent," he explained. "Pissed off someone rich enough to hire _me_ to go after him. And for my 'bring 'em in alive' rates, even."

"Please…," petitioned the batarian. "I didn't do it…"

Zaeed gave him a swift kick in his flat, eight-nostrilled nose. "I said shut it." The batarian groaned. "Tried to lead me on a chase all over the Systems. He should have known better. These people always run to Omega."

"What's going to happen to him?"

"I'm going to turn him in for the bounty." With a shrug, "Don't much care what happens after that."

"So, what's your relationship with Cerberus?" John asked. _Cuz I don't see any Cerberus logos on your armor._

"Easy. Cerberus is paying me a lot of money to help you on your mission. That's the long and short."

"Not many mercs would take a suicide mission for the pay."

"Most mercs don't get an offer like the one Cerberus sent me. This mission doesn't sound like good business. But… your Illusive Man can move a lot of credits."

Shepard thrust out his hand. "Good to have you, Zaeed. We have a lot to do."

The mercenary took it. "That's what they tell me." He looked down at the batarian. "I assume the Illusive Man told you about our arrangement?"

_There's always a catch, isn't there?_ "I'm assuming there's some part of your contract that I'm expected to handle. That about right?"

"Yeah," Zaeed confirmed. "Funny he didn't tell you." _Funny indeed._ "Picked up a mission a little while back, just before I signed on with Cerberus Thought you might be interested. You heard the name Vido Santiago?" Shepard shook his head. "He's the head of the Blue Suns. Runs the whole organization. Seems he recently captured an Eldfell-Ashland refinery on Zorya and is using their workers for slave labor. The company wants it dealt with."

"I'll make sure we get that done," Shepard promised. _I love an opportunity to fight._

"Good," Zaeed said. "Get it out of the way so we can concentrate on being big goddamn heroes." At this, the batarian by Zaeed's feet made a break for it. Zaeed just sighed, pulled out his pistol, and shot him in the leg, Clint Eastwood style. The batarian got knocked out as his head struck the floor. "I better turn this thing in before it starts to stink." He turned to the Admiral. "I'll be locked and loaded next time you're ready to get some killing done."

"Actually, go find _Commander_ Shepard. She needs your help acquiring Archangel."

"Got it. Be there in fifteen." He left the scene, with one batarian slung over his shoulder.

"What a colorful individual," Jacob voiced.

"Yeah," said John. "Time to make one more batarian regret he fucked with a human." He left to find that bartender.

* * *

"Ha, ha, ha," Forvan chuckled to himself as he remember watching that human choke on his own blood. _Another one bites the dust, as those damn humans are so fond of saying. Nothing beats revenge._ His spirits soared as another male human, also dressed in armor, approached the bar. _Two in one night? Well, two less soldiers._ The human just stared at him, though, and didn't order. "Do I know you?" he asked. "No, no. You humans all look the same. Here. Have a drink. On the house." He reached for his "extra deadly" section, and poured a glass of liquid guaranteed to instantly kill the man. The man didn't drink. Instead, he pointed to the drink, and then to Forvan. A pang of horror hit him as he realized… "But…" he sputtered, "but you drank… You should be dead! Wait. You don't want me to…"

"Now," the human demanded through its flat, gritted teeth. "Drink it."

"I… No. You can't. I…"

"Drink it," the human reiterated, "or I'll blind you one eye at a time."

_Fucking humans,_ Forvan thought as he downed the liquid. Immediately, he began vomiting blood, and perished within seconds. Before he died, he heard a turian patron say, "Bastard deserved what he got."

* * *

_Where is he? We've been waiting for over an hour now._

"You Commander Shepard?"

Lillian turned toward the sound of the gruff voice and nearly jumped out of her skin. _What the hell happened to his face? He's got worse scars than me!_ The only thing she could voice was, "Zaeed Massani?"

"Yeah," the man replied. "The Admiral told me to find you. Gave me fuck all for directions. Didn't even have time to get my shit stowed."

"We'll get your things squared away soon, Massani. Were you briefed?"

"On our larger mission? Yes. On this incursion? Only that you're crazy enough to try and snag Archangel from under _three_ gangs. Blue Suns would be bad enough."

"That's the gist of it," Miranda confirmed. "We should go meet with the driver; he's probably not happy that we've delayed him _this_ long."

The three started for the Blue Suns guy standing by the transport shuttle. "Just follow my lead, and we'll be fine," advised Shepard.

"Got it," Zaeed confirmed.

"Took you long enough," the driver sighed. "Balak told me I was taking two, not three."

"A last minute addition," Shepard explained. "Think of it this way, more freelancers to soak the bullets for your boys."

"I hope you're ready, then. Archangel's been annihilating you freelancers."

"Ready when you are."

"Get in."

* * *

_Eww, are those vorcha? Fucking disgusting space goblins._ Indeed, that's what these barely sapient creatures looked like. They had the pointy ears, the long chin, the constant sneer, the sharp teeth, the poor linguistic skills, the homogeneous scarring, _and_ the average IQ of around 10. Divided by 10. Right now, there was a veritable pack of them hanging out in the slums, and they were making no sense. One of them, the leader, was muttering to himself. ""Yesss, feed sune. Fined… phlesh!" _What the hell…_ The vorcha caught sight of John and approached him. Even though the little gremlin was well over a head and a half shorter than him, John still backed up a few steps. Vorcha were known to be rash and unpredictable. "Leeve, human. Tell Captin Gavorn wee not keel any one too day!" _My God, it can barely speak._

"I don't know a Captain Gavorn," John replied. "Why would I tell him anything?"

"Nott trust yoo. Tell Gavorn wee no his triks. Wee knot kill anywon todae."

"There seem to be a lot of vorcha on Omega…" Shepard observed.

"Goe aweigh. Tok two much. Gavorn's thuggs get noe morr. Wee leeve!"

"Good talking to you."

"Noe morr tok. Wee no Gavorn's triks! Wee leeve!" They left.

Shepard and Jacob just exchanged glances. No more needed to be done to get the transmission across. The two wandered in the slums for a bit longer, making their way to the market district. As they walked, Jacob mentioned the elephant in the room.

"This place – how can these people be left to rot like this?"

"You don't understand, or you don't want to?"

"Does it really matter?"

"No. If what I hear is true, Omega has worked this way for a very long time. No one's changing it now."

When the duo entered the market, the first thing they saw was a small quarian hunched over a pile of scrap. He looked like a vendor, as evidenced by the holographic kiosk on the counter. _Maybe he has those FBA couplings Lily told me about in stock._ Shepard began browsing the catalogue, which belonged to "Kenn's Salvage", and found the T-6 within seconds. There was one thing about it that bothered him though. _What the hell's with the price?_ Shepard glanced at a few more items. _These costs are ludicrous!_

"Hello there. Might I interest you in some salvaged tech?" Kenn had apparently caught Shepard browsing and decided to give his sales pitch. "Every credit goes toward a ticket to get me off this forsaken rock."

"No one in their right mind would pay these prices for salvaged parts," asserted Shepard. _Maybe I'm being a little harsh on the kid, but_ _2000 credits for FBA couplings? They're worth half that!_

"I know," the quarian admitted, much to John's surprise. "And it's crippling my sales."

"Drop your prices, and I'll consider buying. Otherwise, I'll keep walking."

"You're right. I'll give you whatever you'd like for the original price. And if this gets back to Harrot… I'll deal with it then."

"What brought a nice kid like you to Omega?" Shepard was curious; quarians rarely ventured beyond their flotilla, and this wasn't the ideal place one would visit for –

"My Pilgrimage. What money I _had_ got stolen within a few days. So I decided to sell salvaged parts." It made sense for a quarian, what with engineering and machining coming as naturally to their species as breathing, to pursue this kind of trade. Just not here. "You can see how that turned out," Kenn continued. "Harrot's forcing me to sell high, and I can't even afford a ticket off this station."

"Why does Harrot control your prices?" _So much for a free market economy._

"Harrot made me swear not to undercut him, no matter what. 'He was here first, so it's his right.' But no one will buy from me when he's so much cheaper. I can't save enough money for a ticket off this station."

"I could go talk to Harrot for you," John offered. "Get him to ease up."

"I won't stop you. If you can convince him to lay off, then maybe I'll get off this station after all. His shop's up the ramp, near where Marsh sells his goods. Anything you can do will be much appreciated. Please check with my kiosk to see what I have for sale. And thank you."

Shepard purchased the couplings for cost, making the electronic transfer, and gave quick instructions where to deliver them. He then turned on his heel and marched to Harrot's Emporium, Jacob following close behind. He's been quiet so far; maybe he's hanging back to learn the subtle trade of coercion. It was John's trademark. When he arrived, John was shocked to learn that Harrot wasn't a batarian like he had thought. He was an elcor. But not just any elcor; a big elcor. With a Cuban cigar between his mouth flaps. "Tentatively excited: Welcome, human. What can I get for you?"

"What kind of things do you sell here?"

"Friendly: Salvaged parts. All kinds, mostly legitimate." _As opposed to illegitimate parts? Tommy the turbine, bastard son of Eliot the engine._ "With pride: My prices are the lowest anywhere on the station. You won't find salvage cheaper than mine."

Shepard's smile at his earlier thought disappeared, replaced by a stern look. "Tell me about your 'deal' with the quarian over there."

"Suspicious: If I had made such a deal, I would certainly not be inclined to discuss it. Accusatory: I don't understand how it is any concern of yours."

_Ha, he's nervous! One final push._ "What if you and I make a deal? You let him set his own prices, and I won't break your legs."

"With barely contained terror: You drive a hard bargain, human."

"I haven't even started." John cracked his knuckles.

"Resignation: Very well. I will release the quarian from his promise. Conciliatory: To show there is no ill will, I offer you a discount on my wares."

Shepard smiled. "I have things to do."

"Courteously: Have a fine day. Take a look at my kiosk if you wish to buy anything."

A brief glance through the catalogue told Shepard he didn't want anything on it, but Jacob purchased a set of old leg weights. When Shepard asked what they were for, Jacob replied with "exercise". _Considering the size of this guy's abs, he must work out _a lot_._

The walk back to Kenn's was short, the two having already memorized the path. When they arrived, the quarian stopped his welding and ran to greet them. "I heard you spoke to Harrot," he began gratefully. "Thank you so much. At this rate, I'll be off the station in no time."

"Take care of yourself, Kenn."

The two decided, having nothing better to do, to check out Marsh's shop. On their way, they passed by a batarian preacher that wasn't there before. _He must've just set up shop._ He stood on the futuristic equivalent of milk crates as he spewed his madness. A few batarians and humans stopped to listen to his spiel, so John and Jacob opted to listen for a while.

"Repent!" the prophet yelled. "The end is nigh!" _Off to a dramatic start._ "Humans are a blight on galactic purity! You sir!" he pointed to a human directly in front of him. "You are a blight! And you! And you, human! And _you_!" The last finger was pointed at Shepard, amid the many cheers and jeers from the crowd. "The Protheans cast off the lesser races: the krogan, the vorcha, and the humans! 'And so they dwelled in filth, on worlds made of dirt and feces, and there they lay until they stumbled into the skies.' The lesser races will be our downfall! The Word is clear!"

_All right, enough's enough._ Jacob put an arm out to stop Shepard from doing whatever he was going to do, trying act as the voice of reason. "Trying" being the key word. John froze the preacher in a stasis field, leaving him conscious, but immobile. With his upgraded L5n implants, this was even easier than before. "See how you like being stuck like _that_ for a few hours."

Jacob gave an exasperated sigh as they strolled away as inconspicuously as possible. "I thought the doc said you shouldn't use your biotics for at least a day," he commented.

"You'll come to learn, Jacob, that I almost _never_ take good advice." Jacob chuckled.

In a minute, they arrived at Marsh's. He was a batarian, ugly like the rest of them, but at least his shop looked presentable. "I might have something here for humans. Not much." _Great way to receive patronage._

"What have you got in stock?" Shepard inquired.

"Something of everything. A lot of merchandise comes through this station, and I snatch up the best of it." John could tell. The man set up racks with books (real books with real paper!) and magazines of all kinds, exotic pieces of art, even some armor and weapons. One look at the prices, though, and it was over for Marsh.

"You might snare a few tourists with these prices, but I'm not giving you a _single_ credit." He turned and began a deliberately slow walk away.

"Sure, you can find things cheaper…" the merchant called back to him, "if you're willing to risk the black market."

"Well," Shepard offered, "you and I _could_ do business if you'd just charge what this crap is worth."

"Fine," he caved. "I'll give you the uppity human discount. And that's all you're getting."

Shepard quickly bought a model turian cruiser and geth gunship for under a hundred credits. _I'll give one to Lily._ "Anything you'd recommend?"

"Sure. You can't go wrong with a copy of Fornax." He brought out an edition of the titillating alien magazine.

"I'll take it."

"I'd be careful Shepard," cautioned Jacob. "Each page of Fornax is like taking a huge risk; you can get an asari model or a naked elcor. It's designed to please _all_ races."

"I'm a little disturbed you know this, Jacob."

"You gonna buy it or not?"

"Yeah, yeah. I'll review it later." John paid the man for the mag, and, laden with merchandise, headed back to the ship.

* * *

"All right," the driver said as the car touched down. "We're here." As soon as Shepard's squad stepped off the transport, it speeded off, no doubt to bring more hogs to the slaughter.

A ranking Blue Suns merc, also batarian, came to "welcome" them. "It's about time they sent me someone who looks like they can actually fight." He sounded impressed by their high quality armaments. "They tell you what we're up against?"

"The recruiter was a little vague…" the Commander prompted.

"We wouldn't get many hires if everyone knew the truth. Archangel's holed up in a building at the end of the boulevard over there. He's got superior position, and the only way in is over a very exposed bridge. It's a killing ground. But he's getting tired, making mistakes. We'll have him soon enough."

"I'll get to him," Lillian contended. "Just point me at that bridge."

The batarian smiled. "I like your attitude, but we've got a plan in place. You'll be on a distraction team. Head straight over the bridge and keep Archangel busy so the infiltration team can sneak in behind him."

"That's goddamn suicide!" Zaeed exclaimed.

"Pretty much," the trooper replied with his best "I don't give a shit" shrug. "You look like you can handle it, though." He pointed up the stairs behind him, which led into the labyrinth of buildings where the mercs were staging their attack. "Head up to the boulevard and get to the third barricade. Talk to sergeant Cathka. He'll tell you when to go in."

"So the bridge is the only way to his hideout?" Shepard asked.

"Exactly," the merc construed. "Archangel collapsed all the underground passageways and sealed the doors to the lower levels. We've got teams digging, but it's taking too long. If they can get that gunship flying again, that'll help. But I'm hoping the infiltration team will finish the job and we can all go home."

Miranda chimed in. "They were using a gunship to take out one man?"

"Yeah – and Archangel shot it down. He didn't destroy it, but he knew just where to hit it to disable it. It wasn't even a fair fight. At least not for us." _What are these guys, pussies? Can't take out _one_ guy? Either that, or Archangel's a badass without compare._

"Where's the infiltration team now?" Lillian queried.

"On the far side of the bridge, near his hideout. But they can't get any closer without being seen."

"How'd they get _that_ close without being seen?"

"More distractions. That gunship I mentioned? Tarak used it to keep Archangel busy. We were able to sneak a few men into his hideout before he took it down, but they're stuck there. We need to keep Archangel focused on the bridge so he doesn't find them and wipe them out." The batarian was wringing his hands with obvious impatience. "You three about ready to go?"

"Not yet, prig," Massani put forth. "What can you tell us about Archangel?"

"Uh, I'm the wrong guy to ask," the merc deflected. "I just do logistics. But I know that Tarak and the other merc bosses have been dealing with him for a while now, but don't be surprised if they're not thrilled about talking to a freelancer. Now you better go find Sergeant Cathka."

"All right, see you later."

"Or not. Watch yourself on the boulevard. Archangel's killed dozens out there already." The batarian got a hail on his radio and walked off to reply.

The Australian mercenary crossed his arms. "_In's_ gonna be easy. _Out's_ gonna be a bitch."

"Let's find him first, Zaeed." Lillian grinned. "_Then_ we'll figure out how to get back."

The trio wandered off to find their way to the mark. As they moved on, they had to duck behind countless barricades with freelancers lining their walls, firing at a building across the way. Occasionally, when one mercenary exited cover longer than was wise, a deafening crack could be heard, and the unlucky individual would fall to the ground sans their head. They made their way into one crumbling building to see a salarian, red skinned with pink face paint, encircled by a small group of mercs, human and salarian. These thugs had uniform yellow and black armor with an insignia of a striped sun. Solely based on their colors, it wasn't difficult to determine what group they belonged to. The salarian began to speak in the high, rapid voice attributed to his species.

"As the first wave goes in, the infiltration team will attempt to take Archangel by surprise. I don't expect much from the freelancers. When they fail, we're up next. The light mechs go in first. If that's not enough, we send in the heavy. _Be prepared._"

_Heavy mechs, huh? Wonder what can be done about that…_ Lillian approached the salarian; she didn't care if he'd be annoyed, she needed info.

"Do you need something?" He was contemptuous.

"You lead the Eclipse?"

"You figure that out all by yourself?" It was a dumb question, to be sure, reflected by the alien's condescending response, but that didn't make the urge to shoot him any less prominent. "I'm Jaroth," he introduced with nary a proffered hand. "I run Omega's Eclipse. What do you need, freelancer?"

Stifling a scoff, Lillian asked, "The infiltration team is the main focus of the attack?"

"Tarak's plan, not mine," he confirmed begrudgingly. "He doesn't want to lose any more men, so he's throwing you freelancers at the problem. Archangel's not going anywhere, so I suppose there's no harm in trying." He gave Shepard a smirk. "Who knows – maybe you'll get lucky."

This guy's cowardice really irked Shepard. _Letting others fight your battles for you. It's not right._ She couldn't stop the next remark from escaping her throat. "So you're just going to hide here while the freelancers get killed?"

"Precisely. You're paid to be distraction. Nothing more. Whether you survive or not… is up to you."

"Why are Eclipse on Omega in the first place?"

Jaroth sighed. "Since you care so much – Eclipse controls almost twenty percent of Omega." He sounded very inconvenienced. "Our transports and mechs keep the eezo moving."

"Sounds very organized," Miss Lawson commented.

"Yes, Eclipse runs like a well-oiled machine. But _Omega_ is anything but organized. It's a constant battle for control," he explained. "Then Archangel comes along and complicates things even more."

"What can you tell me about him?"

The salarian gave a wry smile. "His life expectancy is shortening quickly."

"Is that it?" Shepard asked, disappointed. "Nobody seems to know anything about him."

"Look around," he shot back, grin fading, "you'll learn what you need to know. He's smart. He's resourceful. And he's _dangerous_." Jaroth's eyes lit up. "But we've got him cornered. He won't be making fools of us for much longer." He leaned back in his chair.

"Where did he come from? Who is he?"

"Hmph." Jaroth made a pyramid with his three fingers. "Even his team didn't know that. Maybe we'll know more once we have his body. Of course, it really won't matter then."

"How come he gives you so much grief?"

"Ask him," Jaroth spat. "I'm just here to make as much money as I can. We didn't come to Omega to be constrained by laws and regulations. He'll regret ever coming to Omega. _I promise you._"

Her manipulative tendencies kicking in, Miranda declared, "Sounds like you have a personal stake in this."

The salarian fumed, though his face couldn't really get any redder. "He raided one of my transports last month," he started, his tone barely containing his anger. "Killed two of my best operatives. One of them was my brother, so, yes, it's pretty damn personal." He made a fist and propped his chin upon it. "Can I assist you further?"

_Miranda really struck a nerve with that one._ "I'll get going."

"Good idea."

When the group rounded a corner, away from prying eyes, Zaeed grabbed the Commander's attention. "Shepard, while you were talking with frog brains, I picked up this data pad." He thrust the orange device into her hands. "It's quite… incriminating."

Shepard held it out so she and Miranda could get a better look.

Tarak:

I've spoken to Garm, and he and his men are on board. Assuming this operation is successful, we can count on high morale and extensive buy-ins from the men. From the losses we've already taken, the possibility exists that we won't have the men needed to continue on to the next objective. It's clear, though, that none of our organizations would be ready to move on Aria without the assistance of the other two.

Jaroth

"Shepard," Miranda advised, "we ought to deliver this to Aria. Despite her eccentricities, Omega would be much worse if these mercs took over."

Lillian nodded, and transferred the contents of the pad onto her omni-tool. The data obtained also contained dossiers detailing current forces and their locations, as well as best case/worst case scenario estimates for their resources after this campaign. "Let's get moving."

* * *

It had been a long, but educational, day for Jacob. As he and Shepard wandered about Omega, he couldn't help but be impressed at the man's negotiating skills. When he read up about the Commander, he learned that she got her way through diplomacy; by playing nice. She'd appeal to one's sense of honor, duty, or greed, and manipulate them (in the most positive sense of the word) to obtain the desired result. The Admiral, on the other hand, got things done through force and intimidation. From what Jacob has seen thus far, the man threatens, terrifies, and punches his way to victory. His skills in this field were supplemented well by his stature; he was like, six foot four. Not to mention his biotics; if someone gave him lip, he'd imagine Shepard only had to do a little show to shut them up.

"I think that's him, Admiral." _Finally. We've been looking for this guy for half an hour._

After discovering a proverbial hive of vorcha in the slums, they set out to find this "Gavorn" they all mentioned. The search took them around the station, but it turns out the guy was in front of Afterlife. He was a turian, so he stood quite tall on his dog-like legs, but not quite as tall as the Admiral. He held a beat-up sniper rifle at rest; an old Hammer model, manufactured by Elanus Risk Control Services; the same company that now produces the M-3 Predator pistol and M-100 grenade launcher that both Jacob and Shepard sported. It seemed he also wore their discontinued Duelist light armor, identifiable by its beige and brown fabric cover. Well, most people wouldn't be able to identify it, but Jacob knew his stuff.

As the two drew near, the turian introduced himself. "Captain Gavorn, head of the vorcha 'task force.' Got something to report?"

"There's an awful lot of vorcha around here," Shepard said, concerned. "What are they planning?"

Gavorn's mandibles parted in a grin. "Vorcha? Plan? Ha, ha, ha! They're a pestilence, nothing more. If they started planning, we'd all be in big trouble."

"So what do you do here, exactly?"

"Keep the vorcha in line, keep them out of Aria's sight. That's about it."

"I'll just be going then."

"Keep moving," he ordered.

When Jacob and Shepard were well out of earshot of the turian, the Admiral asked, "What's wrong with the vorcha? I mean, sure, they're ugly, and stupid, and foul-smelling, but I'm no fan of xenophobia."

"Listen, Shepard, they have good reason to keep the vorcha down. Whenever they are ever given free roam, something bad happens."

"Can you give me an example?"

"Okay, sure. A while back, an asari mining corporation established several settlements on Namakli, over in the Pylos Nebula. They educated and trained some vorcha to act as miners, since the eezo mines were filled with toxic gas. Vorcha can adapt in a few weeks to hazardous conditions, so you can see why they were needed. Anyway, it worked well for a few years, then they bred out of control. The kids grew up, and became violent, cuz they're vorcha. You can guess what happened next."

"That's an isolated incident, Jacob." Shepard folded his arms.

_Okay Jacob, roll out the big guns._ "Same thing happened a few years later on a planet in the Ismar Frontier. Parsac, I think it was called. And right now, they're trying to take over an elcor colony, Volturno."

"Well ain't you just an encyclopedia?" Shepard teased.

"Nah, Shepard. Just well-informed."

Shepard resigned, "Alright, you've made your point, I just wish they'd do the same thing to batarians." On that note, he two entered Afterlife to spill some (hopefully not poisoned) drinks.

* * *

"Filtee humans!" The vorcha greeting Lillian's party was silenced by the large krogan sitting next to it with a simple wave of a fat, three-fingered hand.

She could never get over the sheer size of their species; each krogan weighs eight hundred and fifty pounds, on the average, and have a temper to match. This one was bigger than most, and looked fairly young, which meant he could be anywhere from fifty to five hundred years old. He had large, yellow slit eyes, an extremely wide jaw lined with teeth like chunks of concrete, and a maroon colored brow plate. The hump on his back, which would be abound in nutrients and water, was given extra thick armor plating. In a way, they were the organic equivalent of an YMIR mech; large, armed to the teeth, and they don't take any crap. Speaking of YMIR mechs, a few minutes earlier, Lillian snuck into the warehouse where the Eclipse kept their big bots and sabotaged their friend or foe identification system.

The beast glared at Shepard with his eyes, which she knew had two-seventy degree vision, allowing him to see behind while focused on the front. "You're in the wrong place, freelancer," he said with his low, rumbling voice.

"You the Blood Pack leader?" she asked, not wavering in the slightest.

"Name's Garm," he responded. "That's all you need to know. I'm stuck here waiting till you freelancers are done playing war. So ask your questions and go."

_Okay, happy to oblige._ "When do the Blood Pack attack?"

"Damn Tarak wants us to wait," Garm grumbled. "I _hate_ waiting. But he says the Suns have a plan," he condescended, "and they don't want us getting in their way. Hah! We're supposed to wait until the Eclipse sends their mechs… we'll see."

Krogan, being violent by nature, were never known for sitting out of a fight, or even hesitating to throw themselves into the fire. Shepard was surprised the one before her cooperated this long, and she theorized that he'd be so consumed with his lust for blood when his time came that he'll become foolish in his assault. _At least I hope he will._ "Why are the Blood Pack on Omega?"

"We're the muscle on this damn station." He panned his hand to indicate the many mercenaries in the room. Most of them were vorcha, but there were a couple of krogans among them (probably acting as squad leaders). Garm continued, "You need protection or want someone removed, talk to us. The Blood Pack are everywhere on Omega. Everybody loves us, and everybody hates us."

"I'm guessing Archangel mostly just hates you."

"He's just an uptight asshole, I don't really care what he thinks. But he's costing me men and making me work for my money." He leaned forward to make his next point abundantly clear. "I'll be the one to take him out today… you watch. I'm the only one who's fought him one-on-one."

"What do you know about him?"

"He's a pain in the ass," came Garm's reply. "He's a turian, which makes him slightly worse to look at than you. And he's brave… till he realizes you're more than he bargained for."

Miranda butted in, "Sounds like you've had first-hand experience."

The krogan nodded. "He tried to take me down once. Waited till I was alone. Longest damn fight of my life, but I held him off till my men showed up." A smile spread across his face. "He wasn't so tough after that. We chased him over half of Omega. Almost had him, but the slippery bastard snuck away before we could pin him down."

"I should get going," the Commander promptly said.

"'Bout time."

Sometime later, the trio found themselves at the bridge. Ten or so freelancers stood by the entrance, in position. Lillian took special care to avoid getting in a direct line of sight from Archangel and approached one of the freelancers. "I'm looking for Sergeant Cathka," she said.

"You and me both, lady," replied the elderly mercenary. "He's over there, working on the gunship." He pointed to a warehouse ten meters away. "We go over the bridge when he tells us. Go talk to him if you want, but I'm in no hurry."

"I'll be right back, then."

"Go if you want to, but I'm staying here till Cathka gives the word."

Since Cathka was to the left, Lillian naturally led the team to the right, if only to investigate. They went down a short hallway before turning into the Blue Suns base of operations. One angry batarian was yelling at his troops, who made a short U around a table. "I don't want excuses!" he screamed. "Tell Cathka to get that gunship working, or he'll be next over that bridge! And somebody get me those damn blueprints. Now!" He caught sight of Shepard's squad. "Get this freelancer out of here, I don't have time for this shit!"

"What's your problem?" _Probably not the wisest thing to ask, Lillian._

"You!" he returned, explosively. "Jentha," he ordered to his lieutenant, "get this scum out of my face!"

Zaeed stepped forward. "Tarak, what's eating your ass?" he inquired.

"Zaeed?" He was taken aback.

"You know this asshole, Zaeed?" Shepard asked.

"We worked together once."

"Since when do you work for so little?" Tarak grilled, as they _were_ only being paid five hundred.

"Since when are you a goddamn madman?" Zaeed shot back.

Panic in Tarak's voice, "It's Archangel. This guy's gonna kill me! Almost did already."

"That bad, huh?"

"It's worse. Look, Zaeed, I gotta deal with this shit. Jentha, talk to these guys," he ordered. "Answer whatever questions they have." Turning back to Massani, "Good to see you, Zaeed. And who knows – maybe you'll solve my problem for me."

"Anything's possible."

Jentha, a petite, red-haired woman, also dressed in Blue Suns attire, approached them. "Good thing you know him," she started in a gruff, not feminine tone. "Tarak hates having to hire freelancers – he doesn't trust anyone outside the Blue Suns." Dispensing with the introductions, "What can I do for you?"

Tarak resumed his yelling as Shepard asked her first question. "What's Tarak going to do if the infiltration team fails?"

"To start, he'll shoot any freelancers that are still alive. Well, maybe not you three," she pointed to Zaeed as the reason for this "generosity." "But after that, he'll let Eclipse and the Blood Pack take their shots." Her voice took on a contemptuous tone. "_I_ suggested we work together, but he doesn't trust the other groups."

Shepard put her hands on the table. "What if Archangel survives all the attacks? Then you Suns are on your own."

"That's why Tarak wants that gunship fixed so badly. But it won't come to that." Without a smile, but expressing contentment nonetheless, she continued, "Archangel's good, but he can't hold out that long. He's already been in there over a day."

_God damn! Now I really want this guy on my team._ "What do you know about him?"

"He's a turian vigilante who thinks killing mercs is a fun way to pass the time," answered Jentha. "Other than that, he's a mystery. He shows up, usually at the worst possible time, and screws with our work. We worry that every job is a trap now: Does he know where _this_ meeting is? Will the shipment suddenly disappear? How many men will we lose this time?" She crossed her arms, and venomously finished, "He can't die soon enough, if you ask me."

"Why do you hate him so much?"

"He went after Tarak… at his home. Almost got him. Tarak's been on edge ever since, and he's making my life a living hell; second-guessing every damn thing I do. Getting the other merc bands to help us shows you just how desperate he is. They're as bad as Archangel."

"What do the Blue Suns do on Omega?" _Must be some reason Archangel's hounding them._

"We supply goods to a lot of the groups and factions here," she explained. "Weapons, mechs, machinery; you name it, we can get it." _Probably drugs too._ "We also broker deals between factions. You wouldn't know it to look a t him now, but Tarak can be quite a negotiator."

"Shepard," Zaeed reminded, "we should probably find Sergeant Cathka."

"Alright," she replied. "I was a pleasure meeting you, Jentha. I look forward to seeing you on the battlefield." _Though not like you'd expect._

The first thing Lillian heard as she exited the room was a piercing gunshot followed by a loud scream. Apparently, Archangel popped a shot that took off some freelancer's left arm at the shoulder. He died a few seconds later, making the rest of the mercenaries jittery, most began muttering curses and scolding themselves for accepting this job. The trio made their way to the warehouse previously mentioned, and saw the gunship everyone was talking about. The thing had twin machine guns mounted on its underbelly coupled with a pair of missile launchers. "Cathka?" Shepard asked.

One human pointed to the rear of the gunship, where maintenance noises abruptly ceased. A batarian, his helmet's visor polarized, stepped out from behind it, and walked towards them. They met halfway. "_Sergeant_ Cathka," he corrected, as the visor became transparent. "Ah…" he said as he got a better look, "you must be the group Salkie mentioned. You're just in time."

"Salkie?"

"You met him when you were dropped off," Cathka clarified. "He radioed to say you were coming. You three kinda stand out from most of the other freelancers. Anyway, the infiltration team is about to give us the signal. Archangel won't know what hit him. Got any questions? This may be your last chance." He lit a cigarette as he waited for Shepard's response.

"So our plan is to jump the wall and head for Archangel's building?"

"And try not to get killed too fast. You're only a distraction as long as you're alive. You don't have to make it all the way across; just keep Archangel watching that bridge. The infiltration team will do the rest."

"How'll they get to Archangel?"

"They trap him in close quarters, and finish the bastard off face-to-face. If that doesn't work, they have explosives. They'll just need time to set up."

"So the bridge is the only way in?"

"Until the gunship's working again or the blasters finish with the tunnels. Look, we've got a plan. We don't need you trying to come up with any great ideas. Just do your damn job, collect your credits, and go home."

"Are you going to give us cover with the gunship?" she asked.

"Ha. Tarak is the only one who flies her. Besides, she's not quite ready. That bastard Archangel gave her a beating last time she was out there. A few more tweaks, she'll be good as new."

"Wait, why are you coordinating the attack _and_ fixing the gunship?" Shepard beat away the smoke from the machinist's cigarette that was accumulating in front of her.

"I'm in the infiltration group," Cathka explained. "Our team coordinated with the gunship. I'm staying back to organize the freelancers and make sure the gunship's ready to go if we need her."

"Are you leading the assault, then?" Zaeed asked. _Clearly, he hasn't been paying attention._

"Ha! Tarak doesn't pay _me_ to fight," he replied, relief and anger somehow mixed into the same sentence. "I just plan the attack and fix the damn gunship. You freelancers get the privilege of –"

"Target in sight," his radio blared. "We are a go."

"Check," Cathka responded. "Bravo team – go, go, go!" He turned to three of them as the rest of the mercs cleared the building. "Archangel's got quite a surprise waiting for him, but that means no more waiting for me." After extinguishing his smoke, Cathka polarized his visor and returned to work. "Gotta get her back to a hundred percent before Tarak decides he'll need her again."

Shepard and Miranda were about to start for the bridge when Zaeed did something that caught them completely off guard. He grabbed some sort of electric tool from the workbench, and turned it on. Bolts of electricity sparked in between its two prongs. Zaeed walked up behind Cathka, told him, "You're working too hard," and electrocuted him to death. _Shit. Looks like that ship isn't getting repaired. _"What the hell are we waiting for?" he demanded. Without another word, the three of them spun on their heels and strolled innocently to the bridge.

* * *

_Looks like they're beginning their assault. No getting yourself out of this one, Archangel. Oh well, you had a good run. Now take out as many of these bastard sons of vorcha and varren as you can, and join the spirits._ Archangel sighted down the scope, the electronic parameters telling him how and where the shot will land. Mercs, freelancers, were pouring onto the twenty meter long bridge. He pulled the trigger, and one fell. He ejected the het sink, squeezed the trigger again, and another one fell. The next merc he locked on to looked vastly different from the rest. She was tall, slender, had a black fringe, and wore Cerberus colors. He squeezed the trigger, but the shot simply bounced off her kinetic barriers. _Why does Cerberus want me dead?_ he thought as he shot her yet again. This time, her shields fell, but she simply put up a biotic barrier. But then someone else moved in front of her. An Alliance marine. Not just a marine, but an N7 Special Forces officer. The eyes underneath his helmet grew wide as he realized who it was. He knew that she wasn't here to kill him, nor was the Cerberus Operative or the other merc, who he recognized as Zaeed Massani. He switched his weapon to fire a concussive round, and fired. The shot didn't do much to take down the human's shields, but it staggered her a bit; that was all he intended to do. Then, as if to make clear their peaceful intentions, the N7 gave an order, and her two companions fired upon the rest of the freelancers, killing half a dozen or so.

He let them enter the building, and heard more gunshots as they took out the infiltration team inside. The door to the room he was in was locked, but he guessed the marine could open the door in a few seconds. Despite the urge to look behind him, he kept his eyes on the bridge; there was one guy they missed. He heard the door hiss open. "Archangel?" the soldier asked. Out of his periphery, he could see the other two had guns on him, but had no intention to fire.

He held up his hand to signal "wait." That damn merc was hiding behind a pillar. _If only he would – there!_ Archangel fired, and brains decorated the floor behind the merc. The coast clear, he turned to three humans, taking a few slow steps toward them. He sat on a table with his gun propped between his legs as he removed his helmet. He locked eyes, with the middle human, who looked shocked, and uttered a single sentence. "Shepard, I thought you were dead."

* * *

"Garrus?" Lillian called with incredulity as she walked to her old friend. She was inexplicably happy to see him. She knew John would be, too. "What are you doing here?"

"Just keeping my skills sharp," he replied in that light, double toned voice. "A little target practice."

With his eyepiece, Garrus had no need for target practice. He showed her what it did, once. It could run everything from targeting systems to vital processes to extranet poker. He'd never go into battle without it.

"You okay?" Lillian asked.

"Been better, but it sure is good to see a friendly face. Killing mercs is hard work, especially on my own."

"What are you doing out here on Omega? It's really not your kind of place."

"Hah! You could say that again." He grinned for a moment before he continued. "I just got fed up with all the bureaucratic crap on the Citadel. Figured I could do more good on my own. The Admiral, your brother, suggested I go to Noveria. I decided Omega was better. At least it's not hard to find criminals here. All I have to do is point my gun and shoot."

"So, since when did you start calling yourself Archangel?"

"Ah, it's just a name the locals gave me. For all my good deeds. I don't mind it, but please… it's just 'Garrus' to you."

"How'd you manage to piss off every major merc organization in the Terminus Systems?" Lillian was impressed, not just in the scale of his operation but in his stupidity.

"It wasn't easy," he joked. "I _really_ had to work at it. I'm amazed that they teamed up to fight me. They must _really_ hate me."

"You nailed me good that time, by the way."

He moved in to justify his assaulting his old Commander. "Concussive rounds only. No harm done. Didn't want the mercs getting suspicious."

"Uh-huh." Shepard crossed her arms, doubtful. She had always been a better shot than Garrus, and went out of her way to tell him every chance she got.

"If I wanted to do more than take your shields down, I'd have done it. Besides, you were taking your sweet time. I needed to get you moving."

The two shared a brief laugh before they regained composure. "Well, we got here" Shepard said, "but I don't think getting out will be as easy."

"No, it won't," Garrus confirmed. "That bridge has saved my life… funneling all those witless idiots into scope." He pushed himself off the table and moved closer to the group, focusing their attention. "But it works both ways." He looked out of the window and pointed. "They'll slaughter us if we try to get out that way."

"So we just sit here and wait for them to take us out?" Miranda asked, folding her arms.

Garrus shot her a neutral look. "It's not all that bad. This place has held them off so far. And with the three of you…" he stopped as he decided upon their plan of action. "I suggest we hold this location, wait for a crack in their defenses, and take our chances. It's not a perfect plan, but it's a plan."

Shepard leaned on the wide sill, gazing outward to where the mercs were no doubt planning their next attack. "How'd you let yourself get into this position?"

Garrus hefted his sniper rifle. "My feelings got in the way of my better judgment. It's a long story. I'll make you a deal: you get me out of here alive, and I'll tell you the whole damn thing."

The Commander smiled. "I liked sneaking in, but I think I'll enjoy spilling a little merc blood just as well."

"Glad to see you haven't changed. Let's see what they're up to…" He looked out onto the bridge. "Hmm… looks like they know their infiltration team failed. Take a look. Scouts. Eclipse, I think."

Shepard took the rifle he offered, which was a Mantis, like hers, and looked where he was pointing. Indeed, Eclipse sent out a party, but it was composed entirely of LOKI mechs (the retarded ones). She pulled the trigger, and one's head exploded in a shower of sparks. "More than scouts," she relayed. "One less now, though."

"Indeed," Garrus said, taking back his rifle. "We better get ready. I'll stay up here; I can do a lot of damage from this vantage point. And you…" he addressed Shepard, "you can do what you do best. Just like old times, Shepard."

Zaeed had already started firing before the rest of them readied their guns. He had apparently "liberated" one of Garrus's M-15 Vindicator assault rifles from a couch, performing excellent crowd control with controlled three round bursts. When Miranda, Garrus, and Lillian joined the fight, the once numerous mechs rapidly became scrap metal. Actually, they became what happens to scrap metal that's been through a blender.

* * *

Jaroth watched as Archangel and those traitorous freelancers destroy the bulk of his mechanized forces. "If you want something done properly…" he muttered under his breath. As he punched in orders on omni-tool, he challenged, "All right, let's see how you handle this, Archangel. Go!" he hollered into his mic.

At his command, the entire on-hand Eclipse, around twenty or so mercs, rushed over the bridge toward Archangel, including his asari second-in-command. _Jera, I think her name was? Bah, who cares!_ Being a two hundred year old biotic, she could easily handle four mercs by herself, even without the backup. _Now here comes the surprise,_ he thought, giving the order to send out the YMIRs. A smile streaked across his face, for today, Gresoth would be avenged!

* * *

"Damn it!" Garrus yelled as he dropped one Eclipse trooper. "They're sending out the heavy mechs."

Shepard, who was crouched behind cover next to him, smiled. "That problem should take care of itself."

_What is she talking about?_ He soon found out. As soon as the first mech unfolded and stood up, an error message flashed across its face monitor. It then began firing on the enemies closest to it, its rockets and machine guns tearing the Eclipse apart. When the other activated, it did the same, and soon, only three mercenaries were left standing. The survivors managed to make it inside the building, and, having no more targets, the YMIRs turned and fired on each other. Both were destroyed.

Now, an angry Jaroth hopped over the barricade and sprinted, surprisingly quickly, towards Garrus's location. Garrus lined up the shot like he had a hundred times before, but before he could take it, his shields suddenly disappeared as the salarian remotely overloaded them. Before Garrus could recover, he suddenly felt a sensation of weightlessness as he was jerked into the air by the asari biotic that managed to get behind Shepard and himself. Speaking of Shepard… _Where is she?_ She was right by him a second ago. With the other two downstairs, no one else up here, and Garrus hanging upside down, the asari took her time as she pointed her shotgun to Garrus's face. "Any last words?" she asked, like out of a corny human film from their twentieth century (John showed him a lot of those).

Before he could answer in the negative ("go to hell"), the asari froze, and blood started gushing from her neck, the purple liquid forever ruining the Persian rug he bought last month (_that thing cost three hundred credits!_). Garrus fell to the ground with a thump as the mass effect field holding him dissipated, but he was otherwise fine. He clambered to his feet just in time to see Shepard materialize next to the now dead asari, a purple-stained combat knife in hand. She proceeded to insert it into the sheath on her left boot. "You're welcome."

"I've got to get me one of those," he said, still in awe that her suit had a Tactical Cloak. "Oh!" he yelped, seeing Shepard's cross glare. "Thanks. 'Preciate it. Though I remember one time when I saved a certain human from a certain asari Matriarch…"

Shepard didn't have time to rebut before they got hailed from downstairs. The two quickly rushed down to witness a duel, Zaeed and the Cerberus woman versus two salarian Eclipse techs, one of them Jaroth. Garrus hefted his Vindicator while Shepard pulled out her Shuriken, and the two entered the fray. Jaroth's partner went down in no time, and the boss himself dove behind a crate.

"It's hopeless, Jaroth," Garrus called. "You've lost. Give up, and we'll be sure to make it quick."

Instead of taking the turian's offer, Jaroth crazily charged, protected with a layer of holographic tech armor and armed with a modified, razor-sharp, searing hot omni-tool blade. _That weapon could bypass my shields!_ But by the spirits' grace, Shepard managed to overload the salarian's defenses and subsequently blow his brains out. Jaroth crumpled to the floor, deader than a doornail, as the Commander's species said. _Good riddance._

"You're kicking ass, Shepard," Garrus praised. "They didn't even touch me. _And_ we got Jaroth in the process. I've been hunting that little bastard for months."

"Why were you after him?" she asked. Even after a long battle, she still has the energy to ask questions? _I don't give her enough credit._

"He's been shipping tainted eezo all over Citadel space. Half the goods I seized back at C-Sec came from his team here on Omega. I took out a big shipment a while back and killed his top lieutenant in the process. Not surprised he decided to work with the other mercs after that."

"Alright," Shepard began, returning him to the problem at hand. "We've still got Blood Pack and Blue Suns left. Think we can make a break for it?"

"Maybe," he replied. "Let's see what they're up to." He ushered the group up the stairs. "They've reinforced the other side… heavily," Garrus observed through his scope. "But they're not coming over the bridge yet. What are they waiting for?"

Suddenly, a huge explosion rocked the base of the building, throwing everyone off balance for a moment. "What the hell was that?" the Cerberus Operative exclaimed.

Garrus brought up some diagnostics on his omni-tool. "Damn it. They've beached the lower level. Well," he resigned, "they had to use their brains eventually. You'd better get down there, Shepard. I'll keep the bridge clear."

"Let's split up two and two," Shepard suggested. "Keep one of my team here."

"You sure? Who knows what you'll find down there."

"I'm sure. Zaeed, stay with Garrus! Keep him alive."

"Roger that."

"Thanks, Shepard. You better get going. The door behind the stairs on the main level leads to the basement."

Without another word, she and the other woman were off.

* * *

Miranda knew that Shepard was an experienced soldier, but the sheer speed at which she neutralized that salarian was beyond impressive, given that she only got out of a coma two days ago. The two ran through the basement's hallways and staircases, but stopped abruptly when they reached a three-way corridor. "Commander!" Miranda yelled as a horde of Blood Pack vorcha stormed down the straight pathway toward them. "We've got to get that shutter closed!" She pointed to a console which would lower a half-foot bulkhead between them and the mercenaries.

They rushed to the green panel, throwing caution to wind, and initiated the lockdown. They loosed submachine gun fire into their midst to stop them from crossing the threshold and cause the countdown to restart. In ten seconds, the large shutter slammed down, sealing the tunnel. If only there were not two more to go.

* * *

After fighting their way through hordes of vorcha, krogan, and dog-like varren for nearly seven minutes to close those damn shutters, Miranda and Shepard had to stop for a moment to catch their breath. At least, Lillian did. The Cerberus Operative seemed unfazed by the drawn-out combat. "Your body has been resting for two years," she said. "Even with cybernetics, it's only natural your muscles and lungs would atrophy." Somehow, Miranda's words did not make her feel better.

_"Get back here, Shepard,"_ Garrus hailed. _"They're coming in through the doors."_

Pushing herself off the forklift, Shepard beckoned, and the two made their way back to Garrus. When they arrived, they found the building in wide disarray. Dead vorcha littered the floor like flies, and thermal clips were strewn about the place. More alarming, though, was the krogan who just entered from the back way. It was Garm, and he brought a lot of friends. "Raaah! Rip them to shreds!" the leader yelled. "Watch my back. I'll deal with Archangel!" With that, he charged up the stairs for Garrus, leaving Shepard, Miranda, and Zaeed (who was on the ground floor) to contend with the rest.

Lillian engaged her cloak and dove for cover. As she popped out to deal her first strike, a small metal cylinder vaulted over her head and landed in the middle of a few vorcha. Zaeed's grenade detonated, showering the vermin with burning napalm (or something), frying them alive. Shepard snuck attack one krogan, tearing through his thick armor and landing a round right in his head. Miranda suspended a few smaller enemies in the air, and dispatched them with relative ease. That only left Garm.

The Commander dashed up the stairs where Garrus was barely holding his own against the giant, half-ton krogan. Garm's hands crackled blue, and Garrus narrowly dodged the warp that flew toward him. Apparently, Garm was a Battlemaster, like her friend Wrex; one of the few krogans blessed with biotic powers. How one became a crime boss, she didn't know, as most are recruited by the krogan military to serve as leaders and such. _Whatever. He dies._ Shepard unloaded her SMG into the krogan's back, collapsing his shields. Like a helpful tick, Miranda showed up and launched her own warp, disintegrating chunks of Garm's armor. And, with a sharp crack from Garrus's sniper rifle, the krogan fell.

"Thanks, Shepard. They hardly got through to me."

"That's three times today I've saved your ass, Vakarian."

The turian grinned. "We're almost even, then. I still can't believe we took out Garm and his Blood Pack." His grin widened. "This day just gets better and better." He pointed to the deceased krogan with his rifle. "He was one tough son of a bitch."

"He said you two acquainted before."

"Yeah, we tangled once. Caught him alone, none of his gang to help him. I still couldn't take him out. I've never seen a krogan regen that fast; he's a freak of nature. He just kept at it until his vorcha showed up. It was close, but I had to let him go. Not this time, though."

"Okay, only the Blue Suns are left. I say we take our chances and fight our way out."

Garrus thought about it for a few seconds. "I think you're right. Tarak's got the toughest group, but nothing we haven't faced before. Besides, he won't be expecting us to meet him head on –"

Garrus was interrupted when a loud whine pierced the air, and the gunship showed up, spraying the inside of the building with bullets. "Damn it!" he yelled. "I thought I took that thing out already!"

"They fixed it, but not completely. Mr. Massani made sure of that."

"They're offloading troops!" Zaeed interjected. "Watch your back!"

"They're rappelling down the side wall, ground floor!" Ms. Lawson relayed.

The firefight that ensued was fraught with difficulty, but not with drama. The four fought hard, and destroyed the opposition. That bitch Jentha proved hard to kill, but it was rewarding when her chest got torn open by a hail of bullets. Before the team could celebrate, however, the gunship made a return.

"Archangel!" Tarak screamed over his loudspeaker. He unloaded a barrage of rounds, taking down Garrus's shields. Two shots found their mark, one in his thigh, the other in his abdomen. "You think you can screw with the Blue Suns?! This ends now!" Garrus, though injured, got up and hefted his rifle to make a critical shot, but before he could take it, Tarak launched a rocket that exploded right next to the right side of his face.

"Garrus!" Shepard screamed. His transponder read alive, but he was severely wounded. Without even having time to taunt the batarian bastard, Shepard was forced to deal with the flying menace. After a minute or so of whittling it down, Tarak was about ready to flee. If not for Zaeed's handy grenade, he would've gotten away. Instead, the gunship careened into the side of the building, taking the Blue Suns leader down with it.

The threat neutralized, the three humans turned their attention toward Garrus, who was losing blood and no doubt concussed. His armor and face were charred from the explosion. Shepard immediately applied medi-gel to the wounds, stopping most of the blood loss. The turian jolted awake, and coughed up some blood. "Garrus! We're getting you out of here. Just hold on." Tears streamed down her cheeks as she and her crew lifted Garrus and carried him to the nearest landing pad, twenty meters away. "Radio Joker. Make sure they're ready for us."

They set him down. "He's not gonna make it," Zaeed predicted. Shepard hoped he was wrong.

* * *

John and Jacob were barely getting the party started when Shepard's omni-tool blinked. His sister's message stressed that they needed to hurry back to the ship, it was important. Now he was in the comm room of the _Normandy_, had just been informed of Archangel's true identity, and Jacob was giving them a status report.

"Commander. Admiral. We've done what we could for Garrus, but he took a bad hit. The docs corrected it with surgical procedures and some cybernetics. Best we can tell, he'll have full functionality, but…"

The door opened, and in walked Garrus. John immediately picked up on the "but". The entire right side of the turian's face was scarred, and was haphazardly covered with an adhesive bandage. It looked like someone had rubbed it with a rather large cheese grater. Other than that, his armor was dented, there were a few holes in the collar, and it didn't seem to put Garrus out in the least.

"Tough son of a bitch," Jacob commented as Garrus approached them. "Didn't think he'd be up yet."

"Shepard?" he exclaimed in surprise, seeing the Admiral.

"What, Lily didn't mention me?" he feigned insult as he shook his old friend's hand. "I'm hurt."

Lily just rolled her eyes, but he knew she was happy.

"Nobody would give me a mirror," Garrus complained. "How bad is it?"

John smiled. "Hell, Vakarian, you were always ugly. Slap some more face paint on there, and no one will even notice."

"Ha – ow," he rubbed his damaged mandible. "Don't make me laugh, damn it. My face is barely holding together as it is. Besides, some women find facial scars attractive. Mind you, most of those women are krogan…" The three shared a brief chuckle. Apparently, Jacob had slipped out of the room without anyone noticing. "Frankly," Garrus continued, "I'm more worried about you two. Cerberus, Commanders? You remember those sick experiments they were doing?"

"That's why I'm glad you're here Garrus," John's sister affirmed. "If we're walking into hell, we want someone we can trust at our side."

"You realize this plan has _me_ walking into hell, too. Hah. Just like old times. Anyway, I'm fit for duty whenever you need me. I'll settle in and see what I can do at the forward batteries."

Lillian excused herself, but John caught Garrus by the arm before he could leave. "Tomorrow, oh eight hundred. We go after Mordin Solus."

"Yes, Commander."

"Admiral."

"What? Was the Alliance board drunk or something?"

* * *

Author's note: You're probably tired of hearing my (written) voice by now, but I would like to address the rating. Some might argue that it should be rated M, however, considering I am sixteen and find the content suitable for young adults to view, I'm keeping it at T.


End file.
